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E( 


Coloured  covers  / 
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I      I   Covers  damaged  / 


Couverture  endommag^e 

□   Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
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Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 


0 

D 
D 
D 


D 


n 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

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intSrieure. 

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ographique,  qui  peuvent  noodlTier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification  dans  la  m^tho- 
de  normale  de  filmage  sont  indk^u^s  ci*dessous. 

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I I  Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommag^s 


D 


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I     I  Pages  detached  /  Pages  d^tach^es 

[7]  Showthrough  /  Transparence 

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D 
D 


D 


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Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^meniaire 

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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 

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colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meilleure  image 
possible. 


This  Ittm  it  filtntd  it  th«  rtducilon  ratio  chtcktd  btlow  / 

C«  doeumtnt  att  film*  au  taux  da  reduction  Indiqu4  cl-datsout. 


10x 

14x 

llx 

22x 

26x 

30x 

J 

12x 

16x 

20x 

24x 

28x 

32x 

The  copy  filmsd  h«r«  has  bMn  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  film*  fut  raproduit  grica  i  la 
g*n*rositi  da: 

Bibliotheque  nationals  du  Canada 


Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
posslbia  considaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  itaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacif icationa. 

Original  capias  In  printad  papar  covars  ara  fllmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion.  or  tha  bacic  cowar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion.  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  imprassion. 


Tha  laat  racctrdad  frama  on  aach  mieroflcha 
shall  contain  'ha  symbol  ^^(maaning  "CON- 
TINUED"). Of  tha  symbol  V  (maaning  "END"). 
whichavar  applias. 

Mapa.  platas.  charts,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axposura  ara  fllmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar.  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom.  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  illustrata  tha 
mathod: 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  «t*  raproduitas  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  filmi,  at  sn 
conformity  avac  las  conditions  du  contrst  da 
fiimaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  sn 
papiar  aat  ImprimAa  sont  filmis  an  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprsinta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  autras  axamplairas 
originaux  sont  filmis  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  das  symbolas  suivants  spparaltra  sur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha.  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  —^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE '.  la 
symbols  ▼  signifia  "FIN". 

Las  cartaa.  planchas.  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  *tra 
filmto  i  das  Uux  da  reduction  diff*rants. 
Lorsqua  la  document  ast  trap  grand  pour  *tra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clich*.  il  ast  film*  i  psrtir 
da  I'angia  supAriaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  *  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  bas.  an  pranant  la  nomb  '• 
d'imagas  n«csssaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivsnts 
iliustrant  la  m«thoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MIOtOCOPY   RESOLUTION  TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


IM    13-2 


Ul 


Hi 

1st 


1.8 


ISA 

1 4.0 


1-25  IIIIII.4 


1 


1.6 


^  /APPLIED  IN/MGE    Ir 

^^  16S3  East  Main  Stmt 

gy—  Rochester.    New   York         14609       USA 

jg  (716)  482  -  0300  -  Phone 

^B  (716)  288-5989 -Fa« 


W     ^         l-^-^-M-     /^-«»^vj- 


^■l?-^r^?^p| 


1. 


3.^     > 


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i 


A  FRIEND   OF   CESAR 


A  FRIEND  OF  CJISAR 


A  TALE  OF  THE  FALL  OF  TEB 
ROMAN  REPUBLIC 

Zim,  50-47  ».C. 


BT 


WILLIAM  STEARNS  DAVIS 


"Othen  bettor  may  mould  the  Ufe-bresthln^  brMR  of  the  ima««. 
And  living  features,  I  ween,  draw  from  the  marble,  and  better 
Ar^e  their  cause  in  the  court ;  may  mete  out  the  span  of  the  hearens, 
Mark  out  the  bounds  of  the  poles,  and  name  all  the  stars  in  IJeir  turning. 
Thint  'tie  the  peoples  to  rule  with  dominion  —  this,  Roman,  remember  1  — 
These  for  thee  are  the  i  rts,  to  hand  down  the  h.      of  the  treaty. 
The  weak  in  mercy  to  spare,  to  fling  from  their  hig.  seats  the  bau     . .  " 

—  Veboi.  ,  ^n.  vl.    ..-888. 


i*j 


TStca  gark 
THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  dc  CO.,  Ltd. 
1903 


All  right!  reierved 


Mas 


coptuobt,  1900, 
Bt  the  macmillan  compakt. 


S«  up  and  electrotyped  May,  1900.      Reprinted  July, 
•"toe?  Augiut,  twice,  September,  October,  November,  Deo- 
ember,  igoo;  March,  December,  1901  ;  March,  1903. 


Vaitoooti  9r(t« 
A  ■.  CniUiit  A  Co.  —  Benriok  * 
Norwood  MiM.  U.8.A. 


STo  iffis  iFatfjet 
WILLIAM  VAIL  WILSON  DAVIS 

WHO   HAS   TAUGHT   MB   MOBB 
THAN  ALL  HT  BOOKS 


PREFACE 


If  this  book  set. .3  to  show  that  ClapSsical  Life  presented 
many  phases  akin  to  our  own,  it  will  not  have  been  written  in 
vain. 

After  the  book  was  planned  and  in  part  written,  it  was 
discovered  that  Archdeacon  Farrar  had  in  his  story  of  "  Dark- 
ness and  Dawn "  a  scene,  "  Onesimus  and  the  Vestal,"  which 
corresponds  very  closely  to  the  scene,  "  Agias  and  the  Vestal," 
In  this  book ;  but  the  latter  incident  was  too  characteristically 
Roman  not  to  risk  repetition.  If  it  is  asked  why  such  a  book 
as  this  is  desirable  after  those  noble  fictions,  "  Darkness  and 
Dawn  "  and  *'  Quo  Vadis,"  the  reply  must  be  that  these  books 
necessarily  take  and  interpret  the  Christian  point  of  view. 
And  they  do  well ;  but  the  Pagan  point  of  view  still  needs  its 
interpretation,  at  least  as  a  help  to  an  easy  appreLension  of 
the  life  and  literature  of  the  great  age  of  the  Fall  of  the 
Koman  Republic.  This  is  the  aim  c  *  "  A  Friend  of  Caesar." 
The  Age  of  Caesar  pvepared  the  way  for  the  Age  of  Nero, 
when  Christianity  could  find  a  world  in  a  state  of  such  culture, 
unity,  and  social  stability  that  it  could  win  an  adequate  and 
abiding  triumph. 

Great  care  has  been  taken  to  keep  to  strict  historical  proba- 
bility; but  in  one  scene,  the  "Expulsion  of  the  Tribunes," 
there  is  such  a  confusion  of  accounts  in  the  authorities  them- 
selves that  I  have  taken  some  slight  liberties. 

W.  S.  D. 
Haryabd  Univbrsttt, 
January  16, 1900. 


CONTENTS 


I.    Pranqste 1 

n.  The  Upper  Walks  cf  Society         ....      21 

ni.    The  Privilege  of  a  Vestal 87 

IV.  L  ICIU8  Ahenobarbjs  airs  his  Grievance     .       .      50 

V.    A  Teky  Old  Problem 73 

VI.    PoM.^Eius  MAoyus 102 

VTI.    Agias's  Adventure II7 

Vin.  "When  Greek  meets  Greek"         .        .       .        .146 

IX,  How  Gabinius  met  with  a  Rebuff        .       .       .159 

X.    Mamercus  guards  the  Door 172 

XI.    The  Gkeat  Proconsul 198 

Xn.    Pratinas  meets  Ill-fortune 217 

XIJT.    What  befell  at  Bai/E 241 

XIV.    The  New  Consuls 262 

XV.    The  Seventh  of  January 277 

XVI.  The  Rubicon        ........    802 

XVII.  The  Profitable  Career  of  Gabinius    .        .        .829 

XVIII.  How  Pompeius  stamped  with  hi    Feet  .       .       .    334 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

rnAtTii* 

PASB 

XIX.    The  Hospitality  of  Demetrius      ....  364 

XX.    Cleopatra    , ogy 

XXL    How  Ulamhala'8  Words  came  Trub     ...  409 

XXrr.    The  End  of  the  Magnus 433 

XXin.    Bitterness  and  Joy 44a 

XXIV.    Battling  for  Life 454 

XXV.    Calm  after  Storm     •...,,,  406 


A   FRIEND    OF   CESAR 


A  FBIEND   OP  C^SAB 


CHAPTER  I 
I 

PR^NESTB 

It  was  the  Roman  month  of  September,  seven  hundred  and 
four  years  after  Romulus  — so  tradition  ran  — founded  the 
little  village  by  the  Tiber  which  was  to  become  «  Mother  of 
Nations,"  «  Centre  of  the  World,"  "  Imperial  Rome."  To  state 
the  time  according  to  modern  standards  i*;  was  July,  fifty  years 
before  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  Era.  The  fierce  Italian 
sun  was  pouring  down  over  the  tilled  fields  and  stretches  of 
woodland  and  grazing  country  that  made  up  the  landscape, 
and  the  atmosphere  was  almost  aglow  with  the  heat.  The 
dust  lay  thick  on  the  pavement  of  the  highway,  and  rose  in 
dense,  stifling  clouds,  as  a  mule,  laden  with  farm  produce  and 
driven  by  a  burly  countryman,  trudged  reluctantly  along. 

Yet,  though  the  scene  suggested  the  heat  of  midsummer,  it 
was  far  from  being  unrefreshing,  especially  to  the  eyes  of  one 
newly  come.  For  this  spot  was  near  "cool  Prseneste,"  one  of 
the  favourite  resorts  of  Latium  to  the  wealthy,  invalid,  or 
indolent  of  Rome,  who  shunned  the  excessive  heat  of  the  capi- 
tal. And  they  were  wise  in  their  choice;  for  Praeneste,  with 
its  citadel,  which  rose  twelve  hxmdred  feet  over  the  adjoining 
country,  commanded  in  its  ample  sweep  both  the  views  and  the 
■  1 


*  A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 

W  r  1  !^  T^f  -^ide-spreadmg  Campagna.  Here,  cluster 
ing  round  the  hill  on  which  stood  the  farfamed  "Temple  of 
Fortune,"  lay  the  old  Latin  town  of  the  Pr^nestians;  a  little 
farther  westward  was  the  settlement  founded  some  thirty  odd 
years  before  by  Sulla  as  a  colony.  Farther  out,  and  stretehing 
off  into  the  open  country,  lay  the  farmhouses  and  villas 
gardens  and  orchards,  where  splendid  nuts  and  roses,  and  also 
wane,  grew  in  abundant  measure. 

A  little  stream  ron  close  to  the  highway,  and  here  an  irrigat- 
mg  machine  >  was  raising  water  for  the  fields.    Two  men  stood 
on  the  treadmill  beside  the  large-bucketed  wheel,  and  as  thev 
continued  their  endless  walk  the  water  dashed  up  into  the 
trough  and  went  splashing  down  the  ditches  into  the  thirsty 
gardens.    The  workers  were  tall,  bronze-skinned  Libyans,  who 
were  stripped  to  the  waist,  showing  their  splendid  chests  and 
rippling  muscles.    Beside  the  trough  had  just  come  two  women, 
by  their  coarse  and  unpretentious  dress  evidently  slaves,  bear- 
ing large  earthen  water-pots  which  they  were  about  to  fill 
One  of  the  women  was  old,  and  bore  on  her  face  all  the  marks 
which  a  life  of  hard  manual  toil  usually  leaves  behind  it:  the 
other  young,  with  a  clear,  smooth  complexion  and  a  rather 
delicate  Greek  profile.    The  Libyans  stopped  their  monotonous 
trudge,  evidently  glad  to  have  some  excuse  for  a  respite  from 
their  exertions. 

"Ah  ha!  Chloe,"  cried  one  of  them,  "how  would  you  like 
It,  with  your  pretty  little  feet,  to  be  plodding  at  this  mill 
all  the  day?  Thank  the  Gods,  the  sun  will  set  before  a 
great  while.  The  day  has  been  hot  as  the  lap  of  an  image  of 
Moloch!"'  "6     ^ 


*  Water  columbarium. 

buUt^a  fl^^n°''''"*  *°'l'  "^  ^°""PP«»  i^  North  Africa,  in  whose  idol  wa. 
buUt  a  fire  to  consume  human  sacrifices. 


PRiENES    E  3 

"Well,  Hasdrubal,"  said  CI1I06,  the  younger  woman,  with  a 
pert  toss  of  her  head,  "  if  my  feet  were  as  large  as  yours,  and 
my  skin  as  black  and  thick,  I  should  not  care  to  complain  if  I 
had  to  work  a  little  now  and  then." 

«  Oh  !  or  course,"  retorted  Hasdrubal,  a  little  nettled.  «  Your 
ladyship  is  too  refined,  too  handsome,  to  reflect  that  people 
with  black  skins  as  well  as  white  may  get  heated  and  weary. 
Waxt  five  and  twenty  years,  till  your  cheeks  are  a  bit  withered 
and  see  if  Master  Drusus  doesn't  give  you  enough  to  make  you' 
tired  from  morning  till  night." 

"You  rude  fellow,"  cried  ChloS,  pouting  with  vexation,  "I 
will  not  speak  to  you  again.  If  Master  Drusus  were  here  I 
would  complain  of  you  to  him.  I  have  heard  that  he  is  not 
the  kind  of  a  master  to  let  a  poor  maid  of  his  be  insulted." 

"Oh,  be  still,  you  hussy!"  said  the  elder  woman,  who  felt 
that  a  life  of  labour  had  spoiled  what  might  have  been  quite 
the  equal  of  Chloe's  good  looks.  "What  do  you  know  of 
Master  Drusus  ?  He  has  been  in  Athens  ever  since  you  were 
bought.  I'll  make  Mamercus,  the  steward,  believe  you  ought 
to  be  whipped." 

What  tart  answer  Chlog  might  have  had  on  the  end  of  her 
tongue  will  never  be  known;  for  at  this  moment  Mago,  the 
other  Libyan,  glanced  up  the  road,  and  cried:  — 

"Well,  mistress,  perhaps  you  will  see  our  master  very  soon 
He  was  due  this    fternoon  or  next  day  from  Puteoli,  and  what 
18  that  great  cloua  of  dust  I  see  off  there  in  the  distance? 
Can't  you  make  out  carriages  and  horsemen  in  the  midst  of  it. 
Hasdrubal  ?  " 

Certainly  there  was  a  little  cavalcade  coming  up  the  high- 
way. New  it  was  a  mere  blotch  moving  in  the  sun  and 
dust;  then  clearer;  and  then  out  of  the  cloud  of  light,  flying 
sand  came  the  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  pavement,  the  whir  of 


A  FEIEND  OF  C^SAB 


wheels,  and  ahead  of  the  rest  of  the  party  two  dark  Nuxnidi^ 
rSrs  in  bright  red  mantles  appeared,  prickxng  along  theu 
rl'Z^lU.  Chlo.clap^dherlittlehan^,s^^^ 
her  water-pol,  and  sprang  up  on  the  staging  of  the  treadmiU 

"^tiirS"  she  cried.  « ^^  must  be  M«ter  Drusus  co.vag 
back  from  Athens  1 »  She  was  a  bit  excited,  for  an  event  1  ke 
t^  ^val  of  a  new  master  was  a  great  occurrence  m  the 
monotonous  life  of  a  country  slave. 

The  cortisge  was  still  a  good  way  off. 

«What  is  Master  Drusus  like?"  asked  ChloS.     'Will  he 

ago.    But  he  was  aiw*^  ch3it^e 

body-servant,  worshipped  him.    I  hope  he  will  taice 
nf  the  farm  out  of  the  steward's  hands. 
""Hs^ecome.!"  cried  HasdruW.    "I-'-^""*: 
r*  P^riara "    And  then  all  four  broke  out  with  their 

/         «    „«/»  Pnutainine  two  smart-looking  siave-uujro. 
baggage,  and  ^^^'"^^"^^  ^^  ^^  fi^ed  their  eyes  on  the 

all  four  persons  at  the  treaamui  uau. 

to  their  American  Buccessore.  .      .„.^  •  Rheda. 

«  Master,  "  Lord  "  of  riavei  and  Ireedmen. 


PRiENESTE  f 

other  conveyance.    Besides  a  sturdy  driver,  whose  ponderous 
hands  seemed  too  powerful  to  handle  the  fine  leather  reins 
there  were  sitting  within  an  elderly,  decently  dressed  man' 
and  at  his  side  another  much  younger.    The  former  personage 
was  Pausanias,  the  freedman  and  travelling  companion  >  of  his 
fnend  and  patron,  Quintus  Livius  Drusus,  the  "Master  Dru- 
sus"  of  whom  the  slaves  had  been  speaking,     -hlog's  sharp 
eyes  scanned  her  strange  owner  very  keenly,  and  the  impres 
sion  he  created  was  no',  in  the  least  unfavourable.    Drusus  was 
apparently  of  about  two  and  twenty.    As  he  was  sitting,  he 
appeared  a  trifle  short  in  stature,  with  a  thick  frame,  solid 
shoulders,  long  arms,  and  large  hands.    His  face  was  dis- 
tinctively  Roman.    The  features  were  a  little  irregular,  though 
not  to  an  unpleasant  extent.    The  profile  was  aquiline     His 
eyes  were  brown  and  piercing,  turning  perpetually  this  way 
and  that,  to  grasp  every  detail  of  the  scene  around.    His  dark 
reddish  hair  was  clipped  close,  and  his  chin  was  sn^ooth  shaven 
a^d  decidedly  firm -stern,  even,  the  face  might  have  been 
calle.1,  except  for  the  relief  afforded  by  a  delicately  curved 
mouth  -  -  not  weak,  but  affable  and  ingenuous.    Drusus  wore  a 
rark  travelling  cloak,*  and   from  underneath  it  peep  a  his 
linic,  with  ;^s  stripe  of  narrow  purple -the  badge  of  the 
Roman  equestn.u  order."    On  his  finger  was  another  emblem 
of  nobihty-a  la.-ge,  plain,  gold  ring,  conspicuous  among 
several  other  rings  ^ith  costly  settii^rs. 

«  Salve  !  Salve,  Domine  I "  cried  the^laves  a  second  time,  as 
the  carnage  drew  near.  The  young  master  pushed  back  the 
blue  woollen  curtains  in  order  to  gain  a  better  view,  then 
motioned  to  the  diiver  to  stop. 

onlXr^li'dS^r  '^  ''"''  "  ""^"^  *""''•  '^-  ^"«-  -"  ote- 
«  Pmnula.  I  The  second  order  of  the  Roman  nobility. 


6 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"Are  you  slaves  of  mine?"  was  his  question.  The  tone 
was  interested  and  kindly,  and  Mago  saluted  profoundly  and 
replied :  — 

"We  are  the  slaves  of  the  most  noble  Quintus  Livius  Dru- 
sus,  who  owns  this  estate." 

"I  am  he,"  replied  the  young  man,  smiling.  "The  day  is 
hot.  It  grows  late.  You  have  toiled  enough.  Go  you  all 
and  rest.  Here,  Pausanias,  give  them  each  a  philippus,^  with 
which  to  remember  my  home-coming ! " 

"Eu  !  En  !  lo  P  Domine  /»  cried  the  slaves,  giving  vent 
to  their  delight.  And  Chloe  whispered  to  Lais:  "  You  were 
right.  The  new  master  will  be  kind.  There  ^vill  not  be  so 
many  whippings." 

_   But  while  Pausanias  was  fumbling  in  the  money-bags,  a  new 
instance  of  the  generosity  of  Drusus  was  presented.     Down  a 
by-path  in  the  field  filed, a  sorrowful  company;  a  long  row  of 
slaves  in  fetters,  bound  together  by  a  band  and  chain  round 
the  waist  of  each.     They  were  a  disreputable  enough  gang  of 
unkempt,  unshaven,   half-clothed  wretches:   Gauls   and   Ger- 
mans with  fair  hair  and  giant  physiques;    dark-haired  Syri- 
ans;   bla.k-skinned    Africans,  -  all    panting  and  groaning, 
clanking  their  chains,  and  cursing  softly  at  the  two  sullen 
overseers,  who,  with  heavy-loaded  whips,  were  literally  driv- 
ing them  down  into  the  road. 
Again  Drusua  spoke. 
"  Whose  slaves  are  these  ?     Mine  ?  " 

"They  are  your  lordship's,"  said  the  foremost  overseer,  who 
had  just  recognized  his  newly  come  employer. 
«  Why  are  they  in  chains  ?  "  asked  Drusus. 

J  A  Greek  gold  piece  worth  about  83.tX)  at  the  time  of  the  story.    At  this 
time  Rome  coined  little  gold.  ' 

*  Good  I   Good  !    Hurrah  1 


PR^TNESTE  f 

"Mamercus  found  them  refractory,"  replied  the  guard,  "and 
ordered  them  to  be  kept  in  the  underground  prison,'  and  to 
work  in  the  chain  gang." 
The  young  man  made  a  motion  of  disgust. 
«  Bah ! "  he  remarked,  « the  whole  familia '  will  be  in  fetters 
If  Mamercus  has  his  way  much  longer.  Knock  off  those  chains. 
Tell  the  wretches  they  are  to  remain  unshackled  only  so  long 
as  they  behave.  Give  them  three  skins  to-night  from  which  to 
drink  their  master's  health.     Drive  on,  Cappadox  ' " 

And  before  the  fettered  slaves  could  comprehend  their 
release  from  confinement,  and  break  out  into  a  chorus  of  bar- 
barous and  uncouth  thanksgivings  and  blessings,  the  carriage 
had  vanished  from  sight  down  the  turn  of  the  road 


Who  was  Quintus  Livius  Drusus?     Doubtless  he  would 
have  felt  highly  insulted  if  his  family  history  had  not  been 
fairly  well  known  to  every  respectable  person  around  Pr^neste 
and  to  a  very  large  and  select  circle  at  Rome.     When  a  man 
could  take  Livius  3  for  his  gentile  name,  and  Drusus  for  his 
cognomen,  he  had  a  right  to  hold  his  head  high,  and  regard 
himself  as  one  of  the  noblest  and  best  of  the  imperial  city 
But  of  course  the  Drusian  house  had  a  number  of  branches' 
and  the  history  of  Quintus's  direct  family  was  this.     He  was 
the  grandson  of  that  Marcus  Livius  Drusus^  who,  though  an 

^ErgasUchnn.  «  Slave  iu.usehold. 

of  th!  r^        T    "'^  ^  ^'•»'«''""'".  "r  "  Christian  name  " ;  also  a  gentile  name 
o     he  Kens  or  clan  to  whi.-h  be  bel-.n^e.! :  and  e„n.,„..„lj.  n  addition  a  — 

?h«  ?.«     n  '""  "^"  "'^  '•"""''JJate  descendants  of  that  ancestor 

4  ™J^  ,    r"'  ''•"  "•"*"'«  '^'^  °°"««» «'  '»>«  Koman  houses. 
'  ulea  in  91  b.c. 


8 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


aristocrat  of  the  aristocrats,  had  dared  to  believe  that  the 
oligarchs  were  too  strong,  the  Roman  Commons  without  char- 
acter, and  that  the  Italian  freemen  were  suffering  from  wrongs 
inflicted  by  both  of  the  parties  at  the  capital.  For  his  efforts 
to  right  the  abuses,  he  had  met  with  a  reward  very  common 
to  statesmen  of  his  day,  a  dagger-thrust  from  the  hand  of  an 
undiscovered  assassin.  He  had  left  a  son,  Sextus,  a  man  of 
culture  and  talent,  who  remembered  his  father's  fate,  and 
walked  for  a  time  warily  in  politics.  Sextus  had  married 
twice.  Once  to  a  very  noble  lad;-  of  the  Fabian  gens,  the 
mother  of  his  son  Quintus.  Their  some  years  after  her  death 
he  took  in  marriage  a  reigning  beauty,  a  certain  Valeria,  who 
soon  developed  such  extravagance  and  frivolity,  that,  soon 
after  she  bore  him  a  daughter,  he  was  forced  "  to  send  her  a 
messenger";  in  other  words,  to  divorce  her.  The  daughter 
had  been  put  under  the  guardianship  of  Sextus's  sister-in-law 
Fabia,  one  of  the  Vestal  virgins  at  Rome.  Sextus  himself  had 
accepted  an  appointment  to  a  tribuneship  in  a  legion  of  Caesar 
in  Gaul.  When  he  departed  for  the  wars  he  took  with  hi  a 
as  fellow  officer  a  life-long  friend,  Caius  Cornelius  Lentulus ; 
and  ere  leaving  for  the  campaign  the  two  had  formed  a  com- 
pact quite  in  keeping  with  the  stern  Roman  spirit  that  made 
the  child  the  slave  of  the  father:  Young  Quintus  Drusus 
should  marry  Cornelia,  Lentulus's  only  child,  as  soon  as  the 
two  came  to  a  proper  age.  And  so  the  friends  went  away  to 
win  glory  in  Gaul ;  to  perish  side  by  side,  when  Sabinus's  ill- 
fated  legion  was  cut  off  by  the  Eburones.' 

The  son  and  the  daughter  remained.  Quintus  Drusus  had 
had  kindly  guardians ;  he  had  been  sent  for  four  years  to  the 
*'  University  "  at  Athens ;  had  studied  rhetoric  and  philosophy ; 
and  now  he  was  back  with  his  career  before  him,  —  master  of 

1  In  54  B.C. 


PR.ENESTE  0 

himself,  of  a  goodly  fortune,  of  a  noble  inheritance  of  high- 
bom  ancestry.  And  he  was  to  marry  Cornelia.  No  thought 
of  thwarting  his  father's  mandate  crossed  his  mind ;  he  was 
bound  by  the  decree  of  the  dead.  He  had  not  seen  his  be- 
trothed for  four  years.  He  remembered  her  as  a  bright-eyed, 
merry  little  girl,  who  had  an  arch  way  of  making  all  to  mind 
her.  But  he  remembered  too,  that  her  mother  was  a  vapid 
lady  of  fashion,  that  her  uncle  and  guardian  was  x^ucius  Cor- 
nelius Lentulus  Crus,  Consul-elect,'  a  man  of  little  refinement 
or  character.  And  four  years  were  long  enough  to  mar  a 
young  giro's  life.  What  would  she  be  like?  What  had  time 
made  of  ner?  The  curiosity  —  we  will  not  call  it  passion  — 
was  overpowering.  Pure  "love"  was  seldom  recognized  as 
such  by  the  age.  When  the  carriage  reached  a  spot  where  two 
roads  forked,  leading  to  adjacent  estates,  Drusus  alighted. 

"  Is  her  ladyship  Cornelia  at  the  villa  of  the  Lentuli  ?  "  was 
his  demand  of  a  gardener  who  was  trimming  a  hedge  along 
the  way. 

"Ah!  Master  Drusus,"  cried  the  fellow,  dropping  his  sickle 
in  delight.  "  Joy  to  see  you  !  Yes,  she  is  in  the  grove  by  the 
villa;  by  the  great  cypress  you  know  so  well.  But  how  you 
have  changed,  sir — " 

But  Drusus  was  off.  The  path  was  familiar.  Through  the 
trees  he  oauglit  glimpses  of  the  stately  mazes  of  colonnades  cf 
the  Lentulan  villa,  surrounded  by  its  artificially  arranged  gar- 
dens, and  its  wide  stretches  of  lawn  and  orchard.  The  grove 
had  been  his  playground.  Here  was  the  oak  under  which 
Cornelia  and  he  had  gathered  acorns.  The  remnants  of  the 
little  brush  house  they  had  built  still  survived.  His  step 
quickened.     He  heard  the  rush  of  the  little  stream  that  wound 

1  The  two  Roman  consuls  were  magistrates  of  the  highest  rank,  and  were 
chosen  each  year  by  the  people. 


10 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


through  the  grove.  Then  he  saw  ahead  of  him  a  fem  thicket, 
and  the  brook  flashing  its  water  beyond.  In  his  recollec- 
tion a  bridge  had  here  crossed  the  streamlet.  It  had  been 
removed.  Just  across,  swayed  the  huge  cypress.  Drusus 
stepped  forward.  At  last !  He  pushed  carefully  through  the 
thicket,  making  only  a  little  noise,  and  glanced  across  the 
brook. 

There  were  ferns  all  around  the  cypress.  Ivies  twined 
about  its  trunk.  On  the  bank  the  green  turf  looked  dry,  but 
''ool.  Just  under  the  tree  the  brook  broke  into  a  miniature 
cascade,  and  went  rippling  down  in  a  score  of  pygmy,  spark- 
ling  waterfalls.  On  a  tiny  promo,  tory  a  marble  nymph,  a 
fine  bit  of  Greek  sculpture,  was  pouring,  without  respite,  from 
a  water-urn  into  the  gurgling  flood.  But  Drusus  did  not  gaze 
at  til  6  nymph.  Close  beside  the  image,  half  lying,  half  sitting, 
in  an  abandon  only  to  be  produced  by  a  belief  that  she  was 
quite  alone,  rested  a  young  woman.     It  was  Cornelia. 

Drusus  had  made  no  disturbance,  and  the  object  or.  which 
he  fastened  his  eyes  had  not  been  in  the  least  stirred  out  of 
a  rather  deep  reverie,  j^ie  stood  for  a  while  half  bashful, 
half  contemplative.  Cornelia  had  taken  off  her  shoes  and 
let  her  little  white  feet  trail  down  into  the  water.  She  wore 
only  her  white  tunic,  and  had  pushed  it  back  so  that  her 
arms  were  almost  bare.  At  the  moment  she  was  resting 
lazily  on  one  elbow,  and  gazing  abstractedly  up  at  the 
moving  ocean  of  green  overhead.  She  was  only  sixteen;  but 
in  the  warm  Italian  clime  that  age  had  brought  her  to 
maturity.  No  one  would  have  said  that  she  was  beautiful, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  mere  softly  sensuous  Greek  beauty. 
Rather,  she  was  handsome,  as  became  the  daughter  of  Cor- 
nelii  and  Claudii.  She  was  tall ;  her  hair,  which  was  bound 
in  a  plain  knot  on  the  back  of  her  head,  was  dark  —  almost 


PRiENESTE 


11 


black;  her  eyes  were  large,  grey,  lustrous,  and  on  occasion 
could  be  proud  and  angry.  Yet  with  it  all  she  was  pretty  — 
pretty,  said  Drusus  to  himself,  as  any  girl  he  had  seen  in 
Athens.  For  there  were  coy  dimples  in  her  delicate  little 
chin,  her  finely  chiselled  features  were  not  angular,  vv'hile  her 
cheeks  were  aglow  with  a  healthy  colour  that  needed  no  rouge 
to  heighten.  In  short,  Cornelia,  like  Drusus,  was  a  Roman; 
and  Drusus  saw  that  she  was  a  Roman,  and  was  glad. 

Presently  something  broke  the  reverie.  Cornelia's  eyes 
dropped  from  the  treetops,  and  lighted  up  with  attention. 
One  glance  across  the  brook  into  the  fern  thicket;  then  one 
irrepressible  feminine  scream ;  and  then :  — 

"Cornelia!"    "Quintus!" 

Drusus  sprang  forward,  but  almost  fell  into  the  brooklet. 
The  bridge  was  gone.  Cornelia  had  started  up,  and  tried  to 
cover  her  arms  and  shake  h*^"  tunic  over  her  feet.  Her 
cheeks  were  all  smiles  and  blushes.  But  Drusus's  situation 
was  both  pathetic  and  ludicrous.  He  had  his  fiancee  almost 
in  his  arms,  and  yet  the  stream  stopped  him.  Instantly 
Cornelia  was  in  laughter. 

"  Oh !  My  second  Leander,"  she  cried,  "  will  you  he  brave, 
and  swim  again  from  Abydos  to  Sestos  to  meet  your  Hero  ?  " 

"Better!"  replied  Drusus,  now  nettled;  "see!"  And 
though  the  leap  was  a  long  one  he  d  ''d  it,  ni  ^anded 
close  by  the  marble  nymph. 

Drusus  had  not  exactly  mapped  out  for  iiimself  the  method 
of  approaching  the  young  woman  who  had  been  his  child  play- 
mate Cornelia,  however,  solved  all  his  perplexity.  Changing 
suddenly  from  laughter  into  what  were  almost  tears,  she  fiung 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  kissed  him  again  and  again. 

"  Oh,  Quintus !  Quintus !  "  she  cried,  nearly  sobbing,  "  /  am 
so  glad  you  have  come ! " 


12 


A  FRIEND  OF  CJESAR 


"And  I  am  glad,"  said  the  young  man,  perhaps  with  a 
tremor  in  his  voice. 

"  I  never  knew  how  I  wanted  you,  until  you  are  here,"  she 
continued;  "I  didn't  look  for  you  today.     I  supposed  you 
would  come  from  Puteoli  to-morrow.     Oh !  Quintus,  yo     must 
be  very  kind  to  me.    Perhaps  I  am  very  stupid.    Bat  I  am 
tired,  tired." 
Drusus  looked  at  her  in  a  bit  of  astonishment 
"Tired!    I  can't  see  that  you  look  fatigued." 
"  Not  in  body,"  w  ent  on  Cornelia,  still  holding  on  to  him. 
«  But  here,  sit  down  on  the  grass.    Let  me  hold  your  hands. 
You  do  not  mind.     I  want  to  talk  with  you.     No,  don't 
interrupt.     I  must  tell  you.     I  have  been  here  in  Prseneste 
only  a  week.     I  wanted  to  get  away  from  Baise."    I  was 
afraid  to  stay  there  with  my  mother." 

"Afraid  to  stay  at  that  lovely  seashore  house  with  your 
mother ! "  exclaimed  Drusus,  by  no  means  unwilling  to  sit  as 
entreated,  but  rather  bewildered  in  mind. 

"I  was  afraid  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  the  consular'  Domi- 
tius's  second  son.  /  don't  like  him  !  there  !"  and  Cornelia's 
grey  eyes  lit  up  with  menacing  fire. 

"  Afraid  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus ! "  laughed  Drusus.  "  Well 
I  don't  think  I  call  him  a  very  dear  friend.  But  why  should 
he  trouble  you  ?  " 

« It  was  ever  since  last  spring,  when  I  was  in  the  new  theatre" 
seeing  the  play,  that  he  came  around,  thrust  himself  upon  me, 
and  tried  to  pay  attentions.  Then  he  has  kept  them  up  ever 
siuce;  he  followed  us  to  Baiae;  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  my 
mother  and  uncle  rather  favour  him.     So  I  had  Stephanus,  my 

1  The  famous  watering-place  on  the  Bay  of  Naples. 

2  An  ex-consul  was  known  by  this  title. 

•  Built  by  Pompeius  the  Great,  in  55-64  b.c. 


PR^NESTE 


IS 


friend  the  physician,  say  that  sea  air  was  not  good  for  me,  and 
I  was  sent  here.  My  mother  and  uncle  will  come  i  a  few 
days,  but  not  that  fellow  Lucius,  I  hope.  I  was  so  tirtjd  try- 
ing to  keep  him  off." 

"  I  will  take  care  of  the  knave,"  said  Drusus,  smiling,    "  So 
this  is  the  trouble  ?    I  wonder  that  your  mother  should  have 
anything  to  do  with  such  a  fellow.     I  hear  in  letters  that  he 
goes  with  a  disreputable  gang.    He  is  a  boon  companion  with 
Marcus  Laeca,  the  old  Catilinian,»  who  is  a  smooth-headed 
villain,  and  to  use  a  phrase  of  my  father's  good  friend  Cicero 
— *  has  his  head  and  eyebrows  always  shaved,  that  he  may  not 
be  said  to  have  one  hair  of  an  honest  man  about  him.'    But  he 
will  have  to  reckon  with  me  now.    Now  it  is  my  turn  to  talk. 
Your  long  story  has  been  very  short.    Nor  is  mine  long.     My 
old  uncle  Publius  Vibulanus  is  dead.    I  never  knew  him  well 
enough  to  be  able  to  mourn  him  bitterly.    Enough,  he  died  at 
ninety ;  and  just  as  I  arrive  at  Puteoli  comes  a  message  that 
I  am  his   sole   heir.    His   freedmen  knew  I  was   coming, 
embalmed  the  body,  and  wait  for  me  to  go  to  Rome  to-mor- 
row to  give  the  funeral  oration  and  light  the  pyre.    He  has 

left  a  fortune  fit  to  compare  with  that  of  Crassus'^ real 

estate,  investments,  a  lovely  villa  at  Tusculum.    And  now  I 

—  no,  we  — are  wealthy  beyond  avarice.     Shall  we  not  thank 
the  Gods?" 

"  I  thank  them  for  nothing,"  was  her  answer ;  then  more 
shyly,  "except  for  your  own  coming;  for,  Quintus,  you  — you 

—  will  marry  me  before  very  long  ?  " 

"  What  hinders  ? "  cried  the  other,  in  the  best   of  spirits. 
"To-morrow  I  go  to  Rome;   then  back  again  !    And  then  all 

*  A  member  of  the  band  who  with  Catiline  conspired  in  R3  b.c.  to  ove^ 
throw  the  Roman  jiovernment. 

'  The  Roman  millionaire  wlio  had  just  been  slain  in  Parthia. 


14 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


! 


Praeneste  will  flock  to  our  marriage  train.  No,  pout  no  more 
over  Lucius  Ahenobarbus.  He  shan't  pay  disagreeable  atten- 
tions. And  now  over  to  the  old  villa :  for  Mamercus  is  eating 
his  heart  out  to  see  me !  " 

And  away  they  went  arm  in  arm. 

Drusus's  head  was  in  the  air.  He  had  resolved  to  marry 
Cornelia,  cost  what  it  might  to  his  desires.  He  knew  now  that 
he  was  affianced  to  the  one  maiden  in  the  world  quite  after  his 
own  heart 


I 


III 

The  paternal  villa  of  Drusus  lay  on  the  lower  part  of  the 
slope  of  the  Praeneste  citadel,   facing  the  east.     It  was  a 
genuine  country  and  farming  estate  —  not  a  mere  refuge  from 
the  city  heat  and  hubbub.    The  Drusi  had  dwelt  on  it  for  gen- 
erations, and  Quintus  had  spent  his  boyhood  upon  it.    The 
whole  mass  of  farm  land  was  in  the  very  pink  of  cultivation. 
There  were  lines  of  stately  old  elms  enclosing  the  estate ;  and 
within,  in  regular  sequence,  lay  vineyards  producing  the  rather 
poor  Praeneste  wine,  olive  orchards,  groves  of  walnut  trees, 
and  many  other  fruits.    Returning  to  the  point  where  he  had 
left  the  carriage,  Drusus  led  Cornelia  up  a  broad  avenue  flanked 
by  noble  planes  and  cypresses.     Before  them  soon  stood,  or 
rather  stretched,  the  country  house.    It  was  a  large  grey  stone 
building,  added  to,  from  time  to  time,  by  successive  owners. 
Only  in  front  did  it  show  signs  of  modern  taste  and  elegance. 
Here  ran  a  colonnade  of  twelve  red  porphyry  pillars,  with  Co- 
rinthian capitals.    The  part  of  the  house  reserved  for  the 
master  lay  behind  this  entrance  way.    Back  of  it  rambled  the 
structure  used  by  the  farm  steward,  and  the  slaves  and  cattle. 
The  whole  house  was  low  —  in  fact  practically  one-storied  j 


PR^NESTE 


16 


and  the  effect  produced  was  perhaps  substantial,  but  hardly 
imposing. 

Up  the  broad  avenue  went  the  two  young  people  ;  too  busy 
with  their  own  gay  chatter  to  notice  at  a  distance  how  figures 
were  running  in  and  out  amid  the  colonnade,  and  how  the 
pillars  were  festooned  with  flowers.  But  as  they  drew  nearer 
a  throng  was  evident  The  whole  farm  establishment  —  men, 
women,  and  children  — had  assembled,  garlanded  and  gayly 
dressed,  to  greet  the  young  master.  Perhaps  five  hundred 
persons  —  nearly  all  slaves  —  had  been  employed  on  the  huge 
estate,  and  they  were  all  at  hand.  As  Drusus  came  up  the 
avenue,  a  general  shout  of  welcome  greeted  him. 

"  Ave  I  Ave  !  Domine  ! "  and  there  were  some  shouts  as 
Cornelia  was  seen  of,  "Ave!  Domina!" 

"Domina^  here  very  soon,"  said  Drusus,  smiling  to  the 
young  lady ;  and  disengaging  himself  from  her,  he  advanced 
to  greet  personally  a  tall,  ponderous  figure,  with  white,  flowing 
hair,  a  huge  white  beard,  and  a  left  arm  that  had  been  severed 
at  the  wrist,  who  came  forward  with  a  swinging  military 
stride  that  seemed  to  belie  his  evident  years. 

"  All  hail,  dearest  Mamercus ! "  exclaimed  the  young  man, 
running  up  to  the  burly  object.  "Here  is  the  little  boy 
you  used  to  scold,  fondle,  and  tell  stories  to,  back  safe  and 
sound  to  hear  the  old  tales  and  to  listen  to  some  more 
admonitions." 

The  veteran  made  a  hurritd  motion  with  his  remainintr 
hand,  as  if  to  brush  something  away  from  his  eyes,  and  his 
deep  voice  seemed  a  trifle  husky  when  he  replied,  speaking 
slowly :  — 

"Mehercle  !'  All  the  Gods  be  praised!  The  noble  Sextus 
living  again  in  the  form  of  his  son!    Ah!    This  makes  my 

*  Domina,  mispress.  >  By  Uercules. 


16 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


old  heart  glad;"  and  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Drusus.    But 
the  young  man  dashed  it  away,  and  flinging  his  arms  around 
Mamercus's  neck,  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks.    Then  when 
this  warm  greeting  was  over,  Drusus  had  to  salute  Titus 
Mamercus,  a  solid,  stocky,  honest-faced  country  lad  of  eigh- 
teen, the  son  of  the  veteran;  and  after  Titus— since  the 
Mamerci    and    Drusi    were    remotely   related    and    the  jua 
oscului'  — less  legally,  the  "right  of  kissing"— existed  be- 
tween  them,  he   felt  called   upon   to    press    the    cheek    of 
.Emilia,  Mamercus's  pretty  daughter,  of  about  her  brother's 
age.    Cornelia  seemed  a  little  discomposed  at  this,  and  per- 
heps  so  gave  her  lover  a  trifling  delight.    But  next  he  had 
to  shake  all  the  freedmen  by  the  hand,  also  the  older  and 
better  known  slaves;  and  to  say  something  in  reply  to  their 
congratulations.    The  mass  of  the  slaves  he  could  not  know 
personally ;  but  to  the  assembled  company  he  spoke  a  few 
words,  with  that  quiet  dignity  which  belongs  to  those  who 
are  the  heirs  of  generations  of  lordly  ancestors. 

«  This  day  I  assume  control  of  my  estate.  All  past  offences 
are  forgiven.  I  remit  any  punishments,  however  justly  im- 
posed. To  those  who  are  my  faithful  servants  and  clients 
I  will  prove  a  kind  and  reasonable  master.  Let  none  in  the 
future  be  mischievous  or  idle  ;  for  them  I  cannot  spare.  But 
since  the  season  is  hot,  in  honour  of  my  home-coming,  for  the 
next  ten  days  I  order  that  no  work,  beyond  that  barely 
needed,  be  done  in  the  fields.  Let  the  farailia  enjoy  rest, 
and  let  them  receive  as  much  wine  as  they  may  take  with- 
out being  unduly  drunken.  Geta,  Antiochus,  and  Kebes,  who 
have  been  in  this  house  many  years,  shall  go  with  me  before 
the  prsetor,  to  be  set  free." 


'  The  right  of  kissing  kinsfolk  within  the  sixth  degree. 


PRiENESTB 


17 


And  then,  while  the  slaves  still  shouted  their  avea  and 
tcdves,  Mamercus  led  Drusus  and  Cornelia  through  the  old 
villa,  through  the  atrium  where  the  fountain  tinkled,  and 
the  smoky,  waxen  death-masks  of  Quintus's  noble  ancestors 
grinned  from  the  presses  on  the  wall;  through  the  hand- 
somely furnished  rooms  for  the  master  of  the  house;  out  to 
the  bams  and  storehouses,  that  stretched  away  in  the  rear 
of  the  great  far-  building.  Much  pride  had  the  veteran 
when  he  showed  th.  sleek  cattle,  the  cackling  poultry-yard, 
and  the  tall  stacks  of  hay;  only  he  growled  bitterly  over 
what  he  termed  the  ill-timed  lenirncy  of  his  young  patron 
in  releasing  the  slaves  in  the  chain-gang. 

"  Oh,  such  times ! "  he  muttered  in  his  beard ;  "  here's  this 
young  upstart  coming  home,  and  teaches  me  that  such  dogs 
as  I  put  in  fetters  are  better  set  at  large!  There'll  be  a 
slave  revolt  next,  and  some  night  all  our  throats  will  be 
cut.     But  i   s  none  of  my  doing." 

"Well,"  said  Drusus,  smiling,  "I've  been  interested  at 
Athens  in  learning  from  philosophy  that  one  owes  some  kind- 
ness even  to  a  slave.  But  it's  always  your  way,  Mamercus, 
to  tell  how  much  better  the  old  times  were  than  the  new." 

"And  I  am  right,"  growled  the  other.  " Hasn't  a  man  who 
fought  with  Marius,  and  helped  to  beat  those  northern  giants, 
the  Cimbri  and  Teutones,  a  right  to  his  opinion  ?  The  times 
are  evil  —  evil!  No  justice  in  the  courts.  No  patriotism  in 
the  Senate.  Rascality  in  every  consul  and  praetor.  And  the 
'  Roman  P  ^ople '  orators  declaim  about  are  only  a  mob !  Vah  ! 
We  need  an  end  to  this  game  of  fauns  and  satyrs  I " 

"  Come,"  said  Drusus,  "  wo  are  not  at  such  a  direful  strait 
yet.  There  is  one  man  at  least  whom  I  am  convinced  is  not 
altogether  a  knave;  and  I  have  determined  to  throw  in  my 
lot  with  him.    Do  you  guess,  Mamercus  ?  " 


18 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


Mamercus  broke  out   into   a   shout  of 


«  Caesar  ?  » 
Drusus  nodded, 
approval. 

"Euge!  Unless  my  son   Decimus,  who  is  centurion  with 
him,  writes  me  false,  he  is  a  man !  " 
But  Cornelia  was  distressed  of  face. 

"Quintus,"  she  said  very  gravely,  "do  you  know  that  I 
have  t  ten  heard  that  Cajsar  is  a  wicked  libertine,  who 
wishes  to  make  himself  tyrant  ?    What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"Nothing  rashly,"  said  Drusus,  also  quite  grave;  "but  I 
have  counted  the  matter  on  both  sides  — the  side  of  Pompeius 
and  the  Senate,  and  the  side  of  Caesar  -and  I  have  written  to 
Balbus,  Caesar's  manager  at  Rome,  that  I  shall  use  my  tiny 
influence  for  the  proconsul  of  the  Gauls." 

Cornelia  seemed  greatly  affected ;  she  clasped  and  unclasped 
her  hands,  pressed  th  o  her  brows;  then  when  she  let 
them  fall,  she  was  again  smiling. 

"  Quintus,"  she  said,  putting  her  arm  around  him,  "Quintus, 
I  am  only  a  silly  little  girl.  I  do  not  know  anything  z^iou- 
politics.  You  are  wiser  than  I,  and  I  can  trust  you.  But 
please  don't  quarrel  with  my  uncle  Lentulus  about  your 
decision.     He  would  be  terribly  angry." 

Quintus  smiled  in  turn,  and  kissing  her,  said:  "Can  you 
trust  me  ?  I  hope  so.  And  be  assured  I  will  do  all  I  may, 
not  to  quarrel  with  your  uncle.  And  now  away  with  all  this 
sUly  serious  talk !  What  a  pity  for  Mamercus  to  have  been  so 
gloomy  as  to  introduce  it!  What  a  pity  I  must  go  to  Rome 
to-morrow,  and  leave  this  dear  old  place !  But  then,  I  have 
to  see  my  aunt  Fabia,  and  little  Livia,  the  sister  I  haven't  met 
smce  she  was  a  baby.  And  while  I  am  in  Rome  I  will  do 
something  else— can  you  guess  ?  "  Cornelia  shook  her  head. 
"Carpenters,  painters,  masons!     I  will  send  them  out  to 


PRiENESTE 


19 


make  this  old  villa  fresh  and  pretty  for  some  one  who,  I  hope, 
will  come  here  to  live  in  about  a  month.  No,  don't  run 
away,"  for  Cornelia  was  trying  to  hide  her  flushed  face  by 
flight;  "I  have  something  else  to  get  — a  present  for  your 
own  dear  self.  What  shall  it  be  ?  I  am  rich;  cost  does  not 
matter." 

Cornelia  pursed  her  lips  in  thought. 

"Well,"  she  remarked,  "if  you  could  bring  me  out  a  pretty 
boy,  not  too  old  or  too  young,  one  tha'  was  honest  and  quick- 
witted, he  would  be  very  convenier  to  carry  messages  to 
you,  and  to  do  ary  little  business  for  me." 

Cornelia  asked  for  a  slave-boy  just  as  she  might  have  asked 
for  a  new  pony,  with  that  indifference  to  the  question  of 
humanity  which  indicated  that  the  demarcation  between  a 
slave  and  an  animal  was  very  slight  in  her  mind. 

"Oh!  that  is  nothing,"  said  Drusus;  "you  shall  have  the 
handsomest  and  cleverest  in  all  Rome.  And  if  Mamercus 
complains  that  I  am  extravagant  in  remodelling  the  house,  let 
him  remember  that  his  wonderful  Ctesar,  when  a  young  man, 
head  over  ears  in  debt,  built  au  expensive  villa  at  Aricia,  and 
then,  pulled  it  down  to  the  foundations  and  rebuilt  on  an 
improved  plan.  Farewell,  Sir  Veteia.i,  I  will  take  Cornelia 
home,  and  then  come  back  for  that  dinner  which  I  know  the 
cook  has  made  ready  with  his  best  art." 

Arm  in  arm  the  young  people  went  away  down  the  avenue 
of  shade  trees,  dim  in  the  gathering  twilight.  Mamercus 
stood  gazing  after  them. 

"What  a  pity!  What  a  pity!"  he  repeated  to  himself, 
"that  Sextus  and  Caius  are  not  alive;  how  they  would  have 
rejoiced  in  their  children  !  Why  do  the  fates  order  things  ar 
they  do  ?  Only  let  them  be  kind  enough  to  let  me  live  until 
I  hold  another  little  Drusus  on  my  knee,  and  tell  him  of  the 


20 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


great  battles!  But  the  Gods  forbid,  Lentulus  should  find 
out  speedily  that  his  lordship  has  gone  over  to  Caesar;  or 
there  will  be  trouble  enough  for  both  his  lordship  and  my 
lady.  The  consul-elect  is  a  stubborn,  bitter  man.  He  would 
be  terribly  offended  to  give  his  niece  in  marriage  to  a  political 
enemy.  But  it  may  all  turn  out  well.  Who  knows  ?  "  And 
he  went  into  the  house. 


♦  HAPTER  II 


THB    UPPER    WALKS    OP    SOCIETY 


It  was  very  early  in  the  morning.  From  the  streets,  far  b» 
low,  a  dull  rumbling  was  drifting  in  at  the  small,  dim  windows. 
On  the  couch,  behind  some  faded  curtains,  a  man  turned  and 
yawned,  grunted  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  The  noise  of  the  heavy 
timber,  stone,  and  merchandise  wagons  hastening  out  of  the  city 
before  daybreak,^  jarred  the  room,  and  made  sleep  almost 
impossible.  The  person  awakened  swore  quietly  to  himself 
in  Greek. 

"  Heracles  !  Was  ever  one  in  such  a  city !  What  malevolent 
spirit  brought  me  here?  Throat-cutting  on  the  streets  at 
night ;  highwaymen  in  every  foul  alley  ;  unsafe  to  stir  at  even- 
ing without  an  armed  band !  No  police  worth  mentioning ; 
freshets  every  now  and  then ;  fires  every  day  or  else  a  building 
tumbles  down.  And  then  they  must  wake  me  up  at  an  un- 
earthly hour  in  the  morning.  Curses  on  me  for  ever  coming 
near  the  place ! "  And  the  speaker  rolled  over  on  the  bed,  and 
shook  himself,  preparatory  to  getting  up. 

"  Bah !  Can  these  Roman  dogs  never  learn  that  power  is  to  be 
used,  not  abused  ?  Why  don't  they  spend  some  of  their  reve- 
nues to  level  these  seven  hills  that  shut  off  the  light,  and 
straighten  and  widen  their  abominable,  ill-paved  streets,  and 

1  No  teaming  was  allowed  in  Rome  by  day. 
81 


22 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


!     ( 


keep  houses  from  piling  up  as  if  to  storm  Olympus  ?    Pshaw  I 

.ad  better  stop  croaking,  and  be  up  and  about ''  ' 

The  speaker  sat  up  in  bed,  and  clapped  his  hands.     Into  the 

I-l.ghted  and  unpretentiously  furnished  room  came  a  tall, 

bony   ebon-skznned  old  Ethiopian,  very  scantily  attired,  who 

awaited  the  wishes  of  his  master. 

"Come  Sesostris,"  said  the  latter,  "get  out  my  best 
Mmauon^^tl^e  one  with  the  azure  tint.  Give  me  a  clean 
chiton,"  and  help  me  dress." 

And  while  the  servant  bustled  briskly  about  his  work,  Pra- 
tmas,  for  such  was  his  lord's  name,  continued  his  monologue 
ignonng  the  presence  of  his  attendant.     «  Not  so  bad  with  m^ 
atter  all.     Six  years  ago  to-day  it  was  I  came  to  Rome  with 
barely  an  obol  of  ready  money,  to  make  my  fortune  by  m;  wits 
Zeus!    But  I  can't  but  say  I've  succeeded.     A  thousand    e" 

s  Z   r;  r    '"  '""'"'  ^^^^^^  ^^^  "«^^  -^  ^^en  a  better 
troke  of  fortune      politics,  intrigues,  gambling ;  all  to  the  same 

end.  Andnow?-oh,  yes,  my 'frin.ds' would  say  I  am  very 
respectable,  but  quite  poor- but  they  don't  know  how  I  have 
econoauzed  and  how  my  account  stands  with  Sosthenes  the 
banker  at  Alexandria.  My  old  acquaintance  with  Lucius  Domi- 
tius  was  of  some  use.  A  few  more  months  of  this  life  and  I  am 
away^from  this  beastly  Rome,  to  enjoy  myself  among  civilized 

Pratinas  went  over  to  a  large  wooden  chest  with  iron  clasps 

faction^    "There  are  s:x  good  talents  in  there," he  remarked  to 
himself,  "  and  then  there  is  Artemisia." 

He  had  barely  concluded  this  last,  hardly  intelligible  asser- 
tion, when  the  curtain  of  the  room  was  pushed  asL,  auTin 
came  a  short,  plump,  rosy-faced  little  maiden  of  twelve,  with  a 
1  Greek  outer  mautle.  aoreek  uuder  garment. 


L 


THE  UPPER  WALKS  OF  SOCIETY 


23 


clearly  chiselled  Greek  profile  and  lips  as  red  as  a  cherry.  Her 
white  chiton  was  mussed  and  a  trifle  soiled;  and  her  thick  black 
hair  was  tied  back  in  a  low  knot,  so  as  to  cover  what  were  two 
very  shapely  little  ears.  All  in  all,  she  presented  a  very  pretty 
picture,  as  the  sunlight  streamed  over  her,  when  she  drew 
back  the  hangings  at  the  window. 

"  Good  morning,  Uncle  Pratinas,"  she  said  sweetly. 

"Good  morning,  Artemisia,  my  dear,"  replied  the  other,  giv- 
ing her  round  neck  a  kiss,  and  a  playful  pinch.  "  You  will 
practise  on  your  lyre,  and  let  Sesostris  teach  you  to  sing. 
You  know  we  shall  go  back  to  Alexandria  very  soon ;  and  it 
is  pleasant  there  to  have  .lome  accomplishments." 

"  And  must  you  go  out  so  early,  uncle  ? "  said  the  girl. 
"Can't  you  stay  with  me  any  part  of  the  day  ?  Sometimes  I 
get  very  lonely." 

"Ah!  my  dear,"  said  Pratinas,  smoothly,  "if  I  could  do 
what  I  wished,  I  would  never  leave  you.  But  business  can- 
not wait.  I  must  go  ^^-d  see  the  noble  Lucius  Calatinus  on 
some  very  importai  -cal  matters,  which  you  could  not 

understand.    Now  rm  ,      /  like  a  good  girl,  and  don't  become 
doleful." 

Artemisia  left  the  room,  and  Pratinas  busied  himself  about 
the  fine  touches  of  his  toilet.  When  he  held  the  silver  mirror 
up  to  his  face,  he  remarked  to  himself  that  he  was  not  an 
unhandsome  man.  "  If  I  did  not  have  to  play  the  philosoplier, 
and  wear  this  thick,  hot  beard,*  I  would  not  be  ashamed  to 
show  my  head  anywhere."  Then  while  he  perfumed  himself 
wi*'  oil  of  saffron  out  of  a  little  onyx  bottle,  he  went  on  :  — 

What  dogs  and  gluttons  these  Romans  are!     They  have 
no  real  taste  for  art,  for  beauty.     They  cannot  even  conduct  a 

»  At  an  age  when  respectable  men  were  almost  invariably  smooth  shaven, 
the  philosophers  wore  Howing  beards,  as  a  sort  of  professional  badge. 


24 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


I   li 

!il 


murder,  save  in  a  bungling  way.  They  have  to  call  in  ua 
Hellenes  to  help  them.  Ha!  ha!  this  is  the  vengeance  for 
Hellas,  for  the  sack  and  razing  of  Corinth  and  all  the  other 
atrocities !  Rome  can  conquer  with  the  sword ;  but  we  Greeks, 
though  conquered,  can,  unarmed,  conquer  Rome.  How  these 
Italians  can  waste  their  money !  Villas,  statues,  pretty  slaves, 
costly  vases,  and  tables  of  mottled  cypress,*  oysters  worth 
their  weight  in  gold,  and  I  know  not  what  else  !  And  I,  poor 
Pratinas,  the  Greek,  who  lives  in  an  upper  floor  of  a  Subu»w 
house  at  only  two  thousand  sesterces  rer'%1,  find  in  these 
noble  Roman  lords  only  so  much  plunder.  ''  *  ha!  Hellas, 
thou  art  avenged !  " 

And  gathering  his  mantle  about  him,  he  went  down  the 
several  flights  of  very  rickety  stairs,  and  found  himself  in  the 
buzzing  street. 

II 

The  Romans  hugged  a  fond  belief  that  houses  shut  out  from 
sunlight  and  air  were  extremely  healthy.  If  such  were  the 
fact,  there  should  have  been  no  sickness  in  a  great  part  of  the 
capital.  The  street  in  which  Pratinas  found  himself  was  so 
dark,  that  he  was  fain  to  wait  till  his  eyes  accommodated 
themselves  to  the  change.  The  street  was  no  wider  than  an 
alley,  yet  packed  with  booths  and  hucksters,  —  sellers  of 
boiled  peas  and  hot  sausage,  and  fifty  other  wares.  On  the 
worthy  Hellene  pressed,  while  rough  German  slaves  or  swarthy 
Africans  jostled  against  him ;  the  din  of  scholars  declaiming 
in  an  adjoining  school  deafened  him;  a  hundred  unhappy 
odors  made  him  wince.  Then,  as  he  fought  his  way,  the 
streets  grew  a  trifle  wider ;  as  he  approached  the  Forum  the 
shops  became  more  pretentious ;  at  last  he  reached  his  destinar 
1  A  «  fad  "  of  this  time.    Such  Ubles  often  cost  $20,000. 


THE  UPPER  WALKS  OF  SOCIETY 


25 


tion  in  the  aristocratic  quarter  of  the  Palatine,  and  paused 
before  a  new  and  ostentatious  mansion,  in  whose  vestibule  was 
swarming  a  great  bevy  of  clients,  all  come  in  the  official  call- 
ing costume  —  a  ponderous  toga  —  to  pay  their  respects  to  the 
great  uan.  But  as  the  inner  door  was  pushed  asid'^  by  the 
vigilant  keeper,  all  the  rest  of  the  crowd  were  kept  out  till 
Pratinas  could  pass  within. 

The  atrium  of  the  house  \.as  a  splendid  sight,  with  its 
veined  marble  pillars,  mosaic  floor,  bubbling  fountain,  choice 
frescoes,  and  expensive  furniture  upholstered  in  Tyrian  purple. 
A  little  in  the  rear  of  this  gorgeous  room  was  seated  in  a  high 
armchair  the  individual  who  boasted  himself  the  lord  of  ttiis 
establishment,  Lucius  Atilius  Calatinus.  He  was  a  large, 
coarse  man,  with  a  rough,  bull-dog  face  and  straight  red  hair. 
He  had  been  drinking  heavily  the  night  before,  and  his  small 
bluish  eyes  had  wide  dark  circles  beneath  them,  and  his 
breath  showed  strongly  the  garlic  with  which  he  had  seasoned 
the  bread  and  grapes  of  his  early  lunch.  He  was  eviaently 
very  glad  to  see  his  Greek  visitor,  and  hove  the  six  large, 
heavily  gemmed  rings  which  he  wore  on  one  of  his  fat  fingers, 
almost  into  the  other's  hand  when  he  shook  it. 

"  Well  met,  Pratinas  I  "  was  his  salutation.  "  Tell  me,  is  that 
little  affair  of  yours  settled  ?  Have  you  stopped  the  mouth 
of  that  beastly  fellow,  Postumus  Pyrgensis,  who  said  that  I  was 
a  base  upstart,  with  no  claim  to  my  gentile  name,  and  a  bad 
record  as  a  tax  farmer  in  Spain,  and  therefore  should  not  be 
elected  tribune  ^  ?  " 

"I  have  stopped  him,"  said  Pratinas,  with  a  little  cough. 
"But  it  was  expensive.  He  stuck  out  for  ten  thousand  ses- 
terces." 


^The  ten  triounes  had  power  to  convene  the  people  and  Senate,  propose  la\ 
and  "  veto  "  tht  actiona  of  other  maiibtratea. 


26 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


«  Oh,  cheaply  off,"  said  Calatinus,  laughing.  « I  will  give  you 
my  cheque  on  Flaccus  the  banker.  But  I  want  to  know  about 
the  other  matter.  Can  you  make  sure  of  the  votes  of  the  Subu- 
rana  tribe  ?    Have  you  seen  Autronius  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him,"  said  Pratinas,  dryly. 

"And  he  said?" 

"Twenty  thousand  sesterces  for  him  to  deposit  with  trustees ' 
until  the  election  is  over.  Then  he  as  go-between  *  will  make 
sure  of  a  majority  of  the  tribesmen,  and  distribute  to  them  the 
money  if  all  goes  well  at  the  comitia?  It  was  the  best  bargain 
I  could  make ;  for  Autronius  really  controls  the  tribe,  and  some 
one  might  outbid  us." 

"All  right,"  broke  out  Calatinus  with  a  laugh,  "another 
cheque  on  Flaccus." 

"  One  thing  else,"  said  Pratinas ;  "  I  must  have  a  little  money 
to  shut  up  any  complaints  that  those  ridiculous  anti-bribery 
Licinian  and  Pompeian  Laws  are  being  broken.  Then  there  is 
my  fee," 

«  Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  other,  not  to  be  daunted  in  his  good 
humour,  « I'll  give  you  fifty  thousand  in  all.  Now  I  must  see 
this  rabble." 

And  the  mob  of  clients  swept  up  to  the  armchair,  grasping 
after  the  great  man's  hand,  and  raining  on  him  their  aves, 
while  some  daring  mortals  tried  to  thrust  in  a  kiss. 

Pratinas  drew  back  and  watched  the  crowd  with  a  smile  half 
cynical,  half  amused.  Some  of  the  visitors  were  regular  hangers- 
on,  who  perhaps  expected  an  invitation  to  dine;  some  were 
seekers  of  patronage;  some  had  an  eye  to  political  preferment, 
a  few  were  real  acquaintances  of  Calatinus  or  came  on  some 
legitimate  business.  Pratinas  observed  three  friends  waiting 
to  speak  with  Calatinus,  and  was  soon  in  conversation. 

»5cgue«<re».         *  Interprea.        •  Aasembly  of  the  Roman  tribes  for  election 


THE  UPPER  WALKS  OF  SOCIETY 


27 


The  first  of  the  trio  was  known  as  Publius  Gabinius,  who  was 
by  far  the  oldest.  Coarse-featured,  with  broken  complexion, 
it  needed  but  a  glance  to  proclaim  him  as  gifted  with  no  other 
distinctions  than  those  of  a  hard  drinker,  fast  liver,  and  the 
owner  of  an  attenuated  conscien  e.  Servius  Flaccus,  the  second, 
was  of  a  different  tj  pe.  He  wus  languid ;  spirited  only  when 
he  railed  at  a  slave  who  brushed  against  his  immaculate  toga. 
The  frills  on  his  robes  made  him  almost  feminine;  and  he 
spoke,  even  in  invective,  in  a  soft,  lisping  voice.  Around  him 
floated  the  aroma  of  countless  rare  unguents,  that  made  his 
coming  known  afar  off.  His  only  aim  in  life  was  evidently  to 
get  through  it  with  as  little  exertion  of  brain  or  muscle  as  was 
possible.  The  third  friend  was  unlike  the  others.  Lucius  Do- 
mitius  Ahenobarbus  clearly  amounted  to  more  than  either  of  his 
companions.  A  constant  worship  of  three  very  popular  gods  of 
the  day  —  Women,  Wine,  and  Gaming  —  with  the  other  excite- 
ments of  a  dissipated  life,  had  ruined  a  fine  fair  complexion. 
As  it  was,  he  had  the  profile  of  a  handsome,  affable  man ;  only 
the  mouth  was  hard  and  sensual,  and  his  skin  was  faded  and 
broken.  He  wore  a  little  brown  beard  carefully  trimmed  around 
his  v/ell-oiled  chin  after  the  manner  of  Roman  men  of  fashion ; 
and  his  dark  hair  was  crimped  in  regular  steps  or  gradations, 
parting  in  the  middle  and  arranged  on  both  sides  like  a 
girl's.^ 

"Good  morning,  Pratinas!"  said  Lucius,  warmly,  taking  the 
Greek's  hand.  "  How  glad  we  are  to  find  you  here.  I  wanted 
to  ask  you  around  to  Marcus  Laeca's  to-night;  we  think  he 
will  give  something  of  a  feast,  and  you  must  see  my  latest 
sweetheart  —  Cly te  I  She  is  a  little  pearl.  I  have  had  her 
head  cut  in  intaglio  on  this  onyx ;  is  she  not  pretty  ?  " 

"  Very  pretty,"  said  Pratinas,  looking  at  the  engraving  on 

»  Suet.,  "  Nero,"  61. 


28 


A  I      END  OF  C^SAR 


the  ring.  "But  per  .  it  is  not  right  for  me,  a  grave  phi 
losopher,  to  go  to  }         banquet." 

"How  (h)absurd.  (H)of  c(h)ourse  you  c(h)an!"  lisped 
Flaccus,  who  affected  Greek  so  far  as  to  aspirate  every  word 
beginning  >vdth  a  vowel,  and  to  change  every  c  into  a  ch. 

"Well,"  sa.J  Pratinas,  laughing,  for  he  was  a  dearly  loved 
favourite  of  all  these  gilded  youth,  "I  will  see!  And  now 
Gabinius  is  inviting  Calatinus  also,  and  we  are  dispersing  for 
the  morning." 

"Alas,"  groaned  Ahenobarbus,  "I  must  go  to  the  Forum 
to  plead  with  that  wretch  Phormio,  the  broker,  to  arrange  a 
new  loan." 

"And  I  to  the  Forum,  also,"  added  Calatinus,  coming  up, 
"to  continue  this  pest  of  a  canvass  for  votes." 

The  clients  fell  into  line  behind  Calatinus  like  a  file  of 
soldiers,  but  before  Pratinas  could  start  away  with  the  other 
friends,  a  slave-boy  came  running  out  from  the  inner  house, 
to  say  that  "the  Lady  Valeria  would  be  glad  of  his  company 
in  her  boudoir."  The  Greek  bowed  his  farewells,  then  fol- 
lowed  the  boy  back  through  the  court  of  the  peristylium.' 


i  ! 


Ill 

The  dressing  room  occupied  by  Valeria  — once  wife  of 
Sextus  Drusus  and  now  living  with  Calatinus  as  her  third 
husband  in  about  four  years  — was  fitted  up  with  every  lux- 
ury which  money,  and  a  taste  which  carried  refinement  to 
an  extreme  point,  could  accomplish.  The  walls  were  bright 
with  splendid  mythological  scenes  by  really  good  artists;  the 
furniture  itself  ^^^as  plated  with  silver;  the  rugs  were  magnifi- 
cent.    The  mistress  of  this  palatial  abode  was  sitting  in  a 

»  An  inner  private  court  back  of  the  atrium. 


THE  UPPER  WALKS  OF  SOCIETY 


29 


low  easy-chair,  holding  before  her  a  fairly  large  silver  mirror. 
She  wore  a  loose  gown  of  silken  texture,  edged  to  an  ostenta- 
tious extent  with  purple.  Around  her  hovered  ArsinoS  and 
Semiramis,  two  handsome  Greek  slave-girls,  who  were  far 
better  looking  than  their  owner,  inasmuch  as  their  com- 
plexions had  never  been  ruined  by  paints  and  ointments. 
They  were  expert  hairdressers,  and  Valeria  had  paid  twenty- 
five  thousand  sesterces  for  each  of  them,  on  the  strength  of 
their  proficiency  in  that  art,  and  because  they  were  said  to 
speak  with  a  pure  Attic  Greek  accent.  At  the  moment  they 
were  busy  stripping  off  from  the  lady's  face  a  thick  layer  of 
dried  enamel  that  had  been  put  on  the  night  before. 

Had  Valeria  been  willing,  she  might  have  feared  no  com- 
parison with  her  maids ;  for  from  a  merely  sensuous  standpoint, 
she  would  have  been  reckoned  very  beautiful.  She  had  by 
nature  large  brown  eyes,  luxuriant  brown  hair,  and  what  had 
been  a  clear  brimette  skin,  and  well-rounded  and  regular 
features.  But  her  lips  were  curled  in  hard,  haughty  lines,  her 
long  eyelashes  drooped  as  though  she  took  little  interest  in 
life ;  and,  worse  than  all,  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  fashion, 
she  had  bleached  her  hair  to  a  German  blonde,  by  a  process 
ineffective  and  injurious.  The  lady  was  just  fuming  to  her- 
self over  a  gray  hair  Aisinoe  had  discovered,  and  Arsino6 
went  around  in  evident  fear  lest  Valeria  should  vent  her 
vexation  on  her  innocent  ministers. 

Over  in  one  comer  of  the  room,  on  a  low  divan,  wa  sitting 
a  strange-looking  personage.  A  gaunt,  elderly  man  clothed  in 
a  very  dingy  Greek  himation,  with  shaggy  grey  hair,  and  an 
enormous  beard  that  tumbled  far  down  his  breast.  This 
personage  was  Pisander,  Valeria's  "house-philosopher,"  who 
was  expected  to  be  always  at  her  elbow  poixring  into  her  ears 
a  rain  of  learned  lore.     For  this  worthy  lady  (and  two  thou- 


30 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


i:  I 


«  cosmos.     At  th,s  moment  she  was  feasting  her  soul  on 

carry  about,  now  that  we  are  imprisoned  in  the  Iwdy 

Pratinas,  to  see  her  ladyship!"  bawled  a  servantbov' 

"Your  ladyship  does  me  the  honour"  he  hprr.„       vi, 
extremely  deferential  salutation.  '  ^'"'  ^"'^  "'^ 

"Oh,  my  dear  Pratinas,"  cried  Valeria   in  n  lo 
called  Greet,  seizing  his  hand  ar^tl"  e  n    LTnT Jm' 
"how  delighted  I  am  to  see  yon!    We  haven't  2T  ' 

^ce  yesterday  morning.    I  ^a  so  w^t  to  ha  eCdTl,: 

With  a  gladiator  ?  »  '  ^^  ^^^  °^ 


THE   UPPER  WALKS  OF  SOCIETY 


31 


te 

1 

ir 

1 

)f 

n 

y 

y 

5 

3 

1 

) 

'(^ 

^% 

f 


.1! 


"So  Gabinius,  I  believe,"  replied  Pratinas,  "just  told  me. 
And  I  heard  something  else.  A  great  secret.  You  must  not 
tell." 

"  Oh !  I  am  dying  to  know,"  smirked  Valeria. 

"Well," said  the  Greek, confidentially,  "Publius  Silanus  has 
divorced  his  wife,  Crispia.  'She  went  too  much,'  he  says, 
*  with  young  Purpureo.'  " 

"You  do  not  say  so!"  exclaimed  the  lady.  "I  always 
knew  that  would  happen !  Now  tell  me,  don't  you  think  this 
perfume  of  iris  is  delicate?  It's  in  that  little  glass  scent 
bottle ;  break  the  neck.'  I  shall  use  it  in  a  minute.  I  have 
just  had  some  bottles  sent  up  from  Capua.  Roman  perfumes 
are  so  vulgar !  " 

"I  fear,"  said  Pratinas,  doing  as  bidden,  and  testing  the 
essence  with  evident  satisfaction,  "that  I  have  interrupted 
your  philosophical  studies."  And  he  glanced  at  Pisander, 
who  was  sitting  lonesome  and  offended  in  his  corner. 

"Oh!  not  in  the  least,"  ran  on  Valeria;  "but  though  I 
know  you  are  Epicurean,  surely  you  enjoy  Plato  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Pratinas,  with  dramatic  dignity,  "I  suck 
the  sweets  from  the  flowers  left  us  by  all  the  wise  and  good. 
Epicurean  though  I  am,  your  ladyship  must  permit  me  to 
lend  you  a  copy  of  an  essay  I  have  with  me,  by  that  great 
philosopher,  the  Stoic  Chrysippos,''  although  I  cannot  agree 
with  all  his  teachings;  and  this  copy  of  Panaitios,  the 
Eclectic's  great  Treatise  on  Duty,  which  cannot  fail  to  edify 
your  ladyship."     And  he  held  out  the  two  rolls. 

"A  thousand  thanks,"  <5aid  Valeria,  languidly,  "hand  them 
to  Pisander.  I  will  ha.e  him  read  them,  A  little  more 
white  lead,  Arsinoe,  I  am  too  tanned ;  make  me  paler.     Just 


^To  let  out  the  ointment, 
and  like  wares. 


Capua  w-s  a  famed  emporium  for  perfumes 
3  Born  180  B.C. 


32 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


ran  over  the  veins  of  my  tnnples  with  a  touch  of  blue  paint 
Now  a  tint  of  antimony  on  my  eyelids." 

"Your  ladyship  seems  in  wonderfully  good  spirits  this 
morning,"  insinuated  Pratinas. 

"Yes,"  said  Valeria,  with  a  sigh,  «I  endure  the  woes  of 
life  as  should  one  who  is  consoled  by  philosophy  " 

"Shall  I  continue  the  Plato?"  edged  in  poor  Pisander, 
who  was  raging  inwardly  to  think  that  Pratinas  should  dare 
to  assume  the  name  of  a  "lover  of  learning." 

"When  you  are  needed,  I  can  teU  you,"  snapped  Valeria, 
sharply,  at  the  feeble  remonstrance.  "Now,  Semiramis,  you 
may  arrange  my  hair." 

The  girl  looked  puzzled.    To  tell  the  truth,  Valeria  was  speak- 
mg  m  a  tongue  that  was  a  babel  of  Greek  and  Latin,  although 
she  fondly  imagined  it  to  be  the  former,  and  Semiramis  could 
hardly  imderstand  her. 
"  If  your  ladyship  will  speak  in  Latin,"  faltered  the  maid. 
"  Speak  m  Latin !  Speak  in  Latin  ! "  flared  up  Valeria.   "  Am 
I  deceived  ?  Are  you  not-Greeks  ?  Are  you  some  ignorant  Ital- 
ian wenches  who  can't  speak  anything  but  their  native  jargon  ? 
Bah  !  You've  misplaced  a  curl.    Take  that ! "  And  she  struck 
the  girl  across  the  palms,  with  the  flat  of  her  silver  mirror 
Semiramis  shivered  and  flushed,  but  said  nothing. 

"Do  I  not  have  a  perfect  Greek  pronunciation?"  said  the 
lady,  turning  to  Pratinas.  "  It  is  impossible  to  carry  on  a  polite 
conversation  in  Latin." 

"I  can  assure  your  ladyship,"  said  the  Hellene,  with  still 
another  bland  smile,  "that  your  pronunciation  is  something 
exceedingly  remarkable." 

Valeria,  was  pacified,  and  lay  back  submitting  to  her 
hairdressers  S    while    Pratinas,    who    knew    what    kind    of 

1  Omatrices. 


m 


THE  UPPER  WALKS  OF  SOCIETY 


33 


"  philosophy "  appealed  most  to  his  fair  patroness,  read  with 
a  delicate  yet  altogether  admirable  voice,  a  number  of  scraps 
of  erotic  verse  that  he  said  friends  had  just  sent  on  from 
Alexandria. 

"  Oh !  the  shame  to  call  himself  a  philosopher,"  groaned  the 
neglected  Pisander  to  himself.  "  If  I  believed  in  the  old  gods,  I 
would  invoke  the  Furies  upon  him." 

But  Valeria  was  now  in  the  best  of  spirits.  "  By  the  two 
Goddesses,"'  she  swore,  "what  charming  sentiments  you 
Greeks  can  express.  Now  I  think  I  look  presentable,  and  can 
go  around  and  see  Papiria,  and  learn  about  that  dreadful 
Silanus  affair.  Tell  Agias  to  bring  in  the  cinnamon  ointment. 
I  will  try  that  for  a  change.  It  is  in  the  murrhine  ^  vase  in  the 
other  room." 

lasus  the  serving-boy  stepped  into  the  next  apartment,  and 
gave  the  order  to  one  of  his  fellow  slaves.  A  minute  later 
there  was  a  crash.  Arsinoe,  who  was  without,  screamed,  and 
Semiramis,  who  thrust  her  head  out  thr  door,  drew  it  back  with 
a  look  of  dismay. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  cried  Valeria,  startled   and  angry. 

Into  the  room  came  Arsinoe,  lasus,  and  a  second  slave-boy,  a 
well-favoured,  intelligent  looking  young  Greek  of  about  seven- 
teen. His  ruddy  cheeks  had  turned  very  pale,  as  had  those  of 
lasus. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  thundered  Valeria,  in  a  tone  that 
showed  that  a  sorry  scene  was  impending. 

The  slaves  fell  on  their  knees ;  cowered,  in  fact,  on  the  rugs 
at  the  lady's  feet. 

"  A  !  A  !  A  !  Lady  !  Mercy ! "  they  all  began  in  a  breath. 
"  The  murrhina  vase !     It  is  broken  ! " 

1  Deiiietoi'  ;i:<il  tVrsepUoiie,  a  Greek  woman's  oath. 
'  A  costly  substance,  probably  porcelaiu  agate. 


84 


A  FKIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"Who  broke  it?"  cried  their  mistress,  casting  lightning 
glances  from  one  to  another. 

Now  the  truth  had  been,  that  while  Agias  was  coming  through 
a  door  covered  with  a  curtain,  carrying  the  vase,  lasus  had  care- 
lessly  blundered  against  him  and  caused  the  catastrophe.  But 
there  had  been  no  other  witnesses  to  the  accident;  and  when 
lasus  saw  that  his  mistress's  anger  would  promptly  descend  on 
somebody,  he  had  not  the  moral  courage  to  take  the  conse- 
quences  of  his  carelessness.  What  amounted  to  a  frightful 
crime  was  committed  in  an  instant, 

"  Agias  stumbled  and  dropped  the  vase,"  said  lasus,  telling 
the  truth,  but  not  the  whole  truth. 

"  Send  for  Alfidius  the  lorarius," '  raged  Valeria,  who,  with  the 
promptness  that  characterizes  a  certain  class  of  women,  jumped 
at  a  conclusion  and  remained  henceforth  obstinate.  "This 
shall  not  happen  again !  Oh !  my  vaso !  my  vase !  I  shall  never 
get  another  one  like  it !  It  was  one  of  the  spoils  of  Mithridates, 
and"— here  her  eye  fell  on  Agias,  cringing  and  protesting  his 
innocence  in  a  fearful  agony. 

"Stand  up,  boy !  Stop  whining !  Of  course  you  broke  the 
vase.  Who  else  had  it?  I  will  make  you  a  lesson  to  all  the 
slaves  my  house.  They  need  one  badly.  I  will  get  another 
serving-boy  who  will  be  more  careful." 

Agias  was  deathly  pale ;  the  beads  of  sweat  stood  out  on  his 
forehead ;  he  grasped  convulsively  at  the  hem  of  his  mistress's 
robe,  and  murmured  wildly  of  "mercy!  meroy!"  Pratinas 
stood  back  with  his  imperturbable  smile  on  his  face  ;  and  if  he 
felt  the  least  pity  for  his  fellow-countryman,  he  did  not  show  it. 
"Alfidius  awaits  the  mistress,"  announced  Semiramis,  with 
trembling  lips. 

»  Whipper;  many  Roman  houses  bad  such  a  functionary,  and  he  does  not 
■«em  to  have  lacked  employment. 


THE  UPPER  WALKS  OF  SOCIETY 


35 


Into  the  room  came  a  brutish,  hard-featured,  shock-headed 
man,  with  a  large  scar,  caused  by  branding,  on  his  forehead. 
He  carried  a  short  rope  and  scourge,*  —  a  whip  with  a  short 
handle  to  which  were  attached  three  long  lashes,  set  at  inter- 
vals with  heavy  bits  of  bronze.  He  cast  one  glance  over  the 
little  group  in  the  room,  and  his  dull  piglike  eyes  seemed  to 
light  up  with  a  fierce  glee,  as  he  comprehended  the  situation. 

"  What  does  your  ladyship  wish  ?  "  he  growled. 

"  Take  this  wretched  boy,"  cried  Valeria,  spurning  Agias 
with  her  foot ;  "  take  him  away.  Make  an  example  of  him. 
Take  him  out  beyond  the  Porta  Esquilina  and  whip  him  to 
death.     Let  me  never  see  him  again." 

Pisander  sprang  up  in  his  corner,  quivering  with  righteous 
wrath. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  cried.  "  The  lad  is  not  guilty  of  any 
real  crime.  It  would  be  absurd  to  punish  a  horse  for  an  action 
like  his,  and  a  slave  is  as  good  as  a  horse.  What  philosopher 
could  endure  to  see  such  an  outrage  ^  " 

Valeria  was  too  excited  to  hear  him.  Pratinas  coolly  took 
the  perturbed  philosopher  round  the  waist,  and  by  sheer  foree 
seated  him  in  a  chair. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said  calmly,  "  you  can  only  lose  your  place  by 
interfering ;  the  boy  is  food  for  the  crows  already.  Philosophy 
should  teach  you  to  regard  little  affairs  like  this  unmoved." 

Before  Pisander  could  remonstrate  further  Alfidius  had 
caught  up  Agias  as  if  he  had  been  an  infant,  and  carried  him, 
while  moaning  and  pleading,  out  of  the  room.  lasus  was  still 
trembling.  He  was  not  a  knave  —  simply  unheroic,  and  he 
knew  that  he  had  committed  the  basest  of  actions.  Somiramis 
and  Arsino^  were  both  very  pale,  but  spoke  never  a  word. 
Arsinofi  looked  pityingly  after  the  poor  boy,  for  she  had  grown 

^  Flagellum. 


86 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


!'  i 
III 


m  I 


very  fond  of  his  'bright  words  and  obliging  manners.  For 
some  minutes  there  was,  in  fact,  perfect  silence  in  the  boudoir. 
Alfidius  carried  his  victim  out  into  the  slaves'  quarters  in 
the  rear  of  the  house;  there  he  bound  his  hands  and  called  in 
the  aid  of  an  assistant  to  help  him  execute  his  mistress's  stern 
mandate. 

Agias  had  been  born  for  far  better  things  than  to  be  a  slave. 
His  father  had  been  a  cultured  Alexandrine  Greek,  a  banker, 
and  had  given  his  young  son  the  beginnings  of  a  good  educa^ 
tion.  But  the  rascality  of  a  business  partner  had  sent  the 
father  to  the  grave  bankrupt,  the  son  to  the  slave-market  to 
satisfy  the  creditors.  And  now  Alfidius  ar^i  his  myrmidon 
bound  their  captive  to  a  furca,  a  wooden  yoke  passing  down 
the  back  of  the  neck  and  down  each  arm.  The  rude  thongs 
cut  the  flesh  cruelly,  and  the  wretches  laughed  to  see  how  the 
delicate  boy  writhed  and  faltered  under  the  pain  and  the  load. 
"Ah,  ha!  my  fine  Furcifer,"^  cried  Alfidius,  when  this 
work  was  completed.     «  How  do  you  find  yourself  ?  " 

"Do  you  mock  at  me,  you  'three  Utter  wan ' ?  "  retoriied 
Agias  in  grim  despair,  referring  cuttingly  to  FVR  *  branded 
on  Alfidius's  forehead. 

"So  you  sing,  my  pretty  bird," laughed  the  executioner. 
"  I  think  you  will  croak  sorrowfully  enough  before  long.  Call 
me 'man  of  letters'  if  you  will;  to-night  the  dogs  tear  that 
soft  skin  of  yours,  while  my  hide  is  sound.  Now  off  for  the 
Porta  Esquilina!  Trot  aloug  with  you!"  and  he  swung  his 
lash  over  the  wretched  boy's  shoulders. 

Agias  was  led  out  into  the  street.  He  was  too  pained  and 
numbed  to  groan,  resist,  or  even  think  and  fear.  The  thongs 
might  well  have  been  said  to  press  his  mind  as  much  as  his 
skin. 

1  Furca-bearer,  a  coarse  epithet. 

•  Thief.    Branding  was  a  common  punishment  for  slaves. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  PBIVILEGE  OF  A   VESTAL 


Drusus  started  long  before  daybreak  on  his  journey  to 
Eome;   with  him  went  Cappadox,  his  ever  faithful  body-ser- 
vant, and  Pausanias,  the  amiable  and  cultivated  freedman 
who  had  been  at  his  elbow  ever  since  he  had  visitca  Athens. 
For  a  whUe  the  young  master  dozed  in  his  carriage;  but,  as 
they  whirled  over  mile  after  mile  of  the  Campagna,  the  sun 
arose;  then,  when  sleep  left  him,  the  Roman  was  all  alive  to 
the  patriotic  reminiscences  each  scene  suggested.     Yonder  to 
the  far  south  lay  Alba,  the  old  home  of  the  Latins,  and  a  little 
southward  too  was  the  Lake  of  Regilhis,  where  tradition  had 
It  the  free  Romans  won  their  first  victory,  and  founded  the 
greatness  of  the  Republic.     Along  the  line  of  the  Anio,  a  few 
miles  north,  had  marched  Hannibal  on  his  mad  dash  against 
Rome  to  save  the  doomed  Capua.    And  these  pictures  of  brave 
days,  and  many  another  vision  like  them,  welled  up  in  Drusus's 
mind,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  marble  temples  of  the 
Greek  cities  faded  from  his  memory ;  for,  as  he  told  himself, 
Rome  was  built  of  nobler  stuff  than  marble;  — she  was  built 
of  the  deeds  of  men  strong  and  brave,  and  masters  of  every 
hostile  fate.    And  he  rejoiced  that  he  could  be  a  Roman,  and 
share  in  his  country's  deathless  fame,  perhaps  could  win  for 
tar  new  honour,  —  could  be  consul,  triumphator,  and  lead  hii 

87 


38 


A  FRIEND  OF  CvESAR 


I'l 


applauding  legions  up  to  the  temple  of  Capitoline  Jove^ 
another  national  glory  added  to  so  many. 

So  the  vision  of  the  great  city  of  tall  ugly  tenement  houses, 
basking  on  her  "Seven  HUls,"  which  only  on  their  summits 
showed  the  nobler  temples  or  the  dwellings  of  the  great  patri- 
cians, broke  upon  him.  And  it  was  with  eyes  a^sparkle  with 
enthusiasm,  and  a  light  heart,  that  he  reached  the  Porta 
Esquilina,  left  the  carriage  for  a  litter  borne  by  four  stout 
Syrians  sent  out  from  the  house  of  his  late  uncle,  and  was 
carried  soon  into  the  hubbub  of  the  city  streets. 

Everywhere  was  the  same  crowd;  shopping  parties  were 
pressing  in  and  out  the  stores,  outrunners  and  foot-boys  were 
continually  colliding.    Drusus's  escort  could  barely  win  a  slow 
progress  for  their  master.     Once  on  the  Sacred  Way  the 
advance  was  more  rapid;  although  even  this  famous  street 
was  b.  8ly  twenty-two  feet  wide  from  house  wall  to  house  wall. 
Here  was  the  "Lombard"  or  "Wall  Street"  of  antiquity. 
Here  were  the  offices  of  the  great  banking  houses  and  syndi- 
cates that  held  the  world  in  fee.     Here   centred  those  busy 
equites,  the  capitalists,  whose  transactions  ran  out  even  beyond 
the  lands  covered  by  the  eagles,  so  that  while  Gaul  was  yet 
unconquered,  Cicero  could  boast,   "not  a  sesterce  in  Gaul 
changes  hands  without  being  entered  in  a  Roman  ledger." 
And  here  were  brokers  whose  clients  were  kings,  and  who 
by  their  "influence"  almost  made  peace  ir  war,  like  modern 
Rothschilds. 

Thither  Drusus's  litter  carried  him,  for  he  knew  that  his 
first  act  on  coming  to  Rome  to  take  possession  of  his  uncle's 
property  should  be  to  consult  without  delay  his  agent  and 
financial  and  legal  adviser,  lest  any  loophole  be  left  for  a 
disappointed  fortune-hunter  to  contest  the  will.  The  bearers 
put  him  down  before  the  important  firm  of  Flaccus  and  Sophus. 


THE  PRIVILEGE   JF  A  VESTAL 


39 


Out  from  the  open,  Avindowless  office  ran  the  senior  partner, 
Sextus  Fulvius  Flaccus,  a  stout,  comfortable,  rosy-faced  old 
eques,  who  had  half  Eome  as  his  financial  clients,  the  other 
half  m  his  debt.  Many  were  his  congratulations  upon  Drusus's 
manly  growth,  and  many  more  upon  the  windfall  of  Vibu- 
lanus's  fortune,  which,  as  he  declared,  was  too  securely  con- 
veyed to  the  young  man  to  be  open  to  any  legal  attack. 

But  when  Drusus  intimated  that  he  expected  soon  to  in- 
vite the  good  man  to  his  marriage  feast,  Flaccus  shook  his 
head. 

"You  will  never  get  a  sesterce  of  Cornelia's  dowry,"  he 
declared.  Hor  uncle  Lentulus  Crus  is  head  over  ears  in  debt. 
Nothing  can  save  him,  unless  —  " 

« I  don't  understand  you,"  said  the  other. 

"Well,"  continued  Flaccus,  "to  be  frank;  unless  there  is 
nothing  short  of  a  revolution." 

"Will  it  come  to  that?"  demanded  Drusus. 

"Can't  say,"  replied  Flaccus,  as  if  himself  perplexed. 
"Everybody  declares  C:esar  and  Pompeius  are  dreadfully 
alienated.  Pompeius  is  joining  the  Senate.  Half  the  great 
men  of  Rome  are  in  debt,  as  I  have  cause  to  know,  and  unless 
we  have  an  overturn,  with  'clean  accounts'  as  a  result,  more 
than  one  noble  lord  is  ruined.  I  am  calling  in  all  my  loans, 
turning  everything  into  cash.  Credit  is  bad  — bad.  Csesar 
paid  Curio's  debts— sixty  millions  of  sesterces.'  That's  why 
Curio  is  a  Caesarian  now.  Oh !  money  is  the  cause  of  all 
these  vile  ijolitical  changes!  Trouble  is  coming!  Sulla's  old 
throat  cuttings  will  be  nothing  to  it!  But  don't  marry  Len- 
tulus's  niece ! " 

"Well,"  said  Drusus,  when  the  business  was  done,  and  he 
turned  to  go,  "I  want  Cornelia,  not  her  dowry." 

'  I.e.  82,400,000;  a  sesterce  was  about  4  centi. 


40 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


i!| 


"Strange  fellow,"  muttered  Flaccus,  while  Drusus  started 
off  in  his  litter.  "I  always  consider  the  dowiy  the  principal 
part  of  a  marriape." 

n 

Drusus  regained  his  litter,  and  ordered  his  bearers  to  take 
him  to  the  house  of  the  Vestals,  —  back  of  the  Temple  of 
Vesta,— where  he  wished  to  see  his  aunt  Fabia  and  Li  via, 
his  little  half-sister.     The   Temple  itself  — a  small,  round 
structure,  with  columns,  a  conical   roof  which  was  fringed 
about    with    dragons    and    surmounted    by    a    statue— still 
showed  signs  of  the  fire,  which,  in  210  b.c,  would   have 
destroyed  it  but  for  thirteen  slaves,  who  won  their  liberty 
by  checking  the  blaze.    Tradition  had  it  that  here  the  holy 
Numa  had  built  the  hut  which  contained  the  hearth-fire  of 
Rome,  — the  divine  spark  which  now  shed  its  radiance  over 
the  nations.     Back  of  the  Temple  was  the  House  of  the  Ves- 
tals, a  structure  with  a  plain  exterior,  differing  little  from  the 
ordinary  private  dwellings.     Here  Drusus  had  his  litter  set 
down  for  a  second  time,  and  notified  the  porter  that  he  would 
be  glad  to   see  his  aunt  and  sister.    The  young  man  was 
ushered  into  a  spacious,  handsomely  furnished  and  decorated 
atrium,  where  were  arranged  lines  of  statues  of  the  various 
maxim(B '  of  the  little  religious  order.    A  shy  young  girl  with 
a  white  dress  and  fillet,  who  was  reading  in  the  apartment, 
slipped  noiselessly  out,  as  the  young  man  entered;   for  the 
novices  were  kept  under  strict  control,  with  few  liberties,  until 
their  elder  sisters  could  trust  them  in  male  society.     Then 
there  was  a  rustle  of  robes  and  ribbons,  and  Jn  came  a  tall, 
stately  lady,  also  in  pure  white,  and  a  little  girl  of  about  five, 
who  shrank  coyly  back  when  Drusus  called  her  his  "  Liviola"* 
J  Senior  VestaU.  «  A  diminutive  of  endearment. 


ii 


THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  A  VESTAL 


41 


%,f 


f* 


I 


and  tried  to  catch  her  in  his  arms.  But  the  lady  embraced 
him,  and  kissed  him,  and  asked  a  thousand  things  about  him, 
as  tenderly  as  if  she  had  been  his  mother. 

Fabia  the  Vestal  was  now  about  thirty-seven  years  of  age. 
One  and  thirty  years  before  had  the  Pontifex  Maximus  chosen 
her  out  — a  little  girl  — to  become  the  priestess  of  Vesta,  the 
hearth-goddess,  the  home-goddess  of  Pagan  Rome.    Fabia  had 
dwelt  almost  all  her  life  in  the  house  of  the  Vestals.    Her  very 
existence  had  become  identified  with  the  little  sisterhood,  which 
she  and  her  five  associates  composed.    It  was  a  rather  isolated 
yet  singularly  pure  and  peaceful  life  which  she  had  led.     Rev- 
olutions  might  rock  the  city  and  Empire ;  Marians  and  Sullians 
contend;  Catilina  plot  ruin  and  destruction;  Clodius  and  his 
ruffians  terrorize  the  streets;  but  the  fire  of  the  great  hearth- 
goddess  was  never  scattered,  nor  were  its  gentle  ministers 
molested.    Fabia  had  th.s  grown  to  mature  womanhood.     Ten 
years  she  had  spent  in  learning  the  Temple  ritual,  ten  years  in 
performing  the  actual  duties  of  the  sacred  fire  and  its  cultus, 
ten  years  in  teaching  the  young  novices.     And  now  she  was' 
free,  if  she  chose,  to  leave  the  Temple  service,  and  even  to 
marry.    But  Fabia  had  no  intention  of  taking  a  step  which 
would  tear  her  from  the  circle  in  which  she  was  dearly  loved, 
and  which,  though  permitted  by  law,  would  be  publicly  de- 
plored as  an  evil  omen. 

The  Vestal's  pure  simple  life  had  left  its  impress  on  her 
features.  Peace  and  innocent  delight  in  innocent  things  shone 
through  her  dark  eyes  aod  soft,  well-rounded  face.  Her  light 
brown  hair  was  covered  and  confined  by  a  fillet  of  white  wool.' 
She  wore  a  stola  and  outer  garment  of  stainless  white  linen  — 
the  perfectly  plain  badge  of  her  chaste  and  holy  office;  while 
on  her  small  feet  were  dainty  sandals,  bound  on  by  thongs  of 

^  Ii\f tUa. 


i 


42 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


I  I 


i 


whitened  leather.     Everything  about  her  dress  and   features 
betokened  the  priestess  of  a  gentle  religion. 

When  questions  and  repeated  salutations  were  over,  and 
Livia  had  ceased  to  be  too  afraid  of  her  quite  strange  brother, 
Fabia  asked  what  she  could  do  for  her  nephew.  As  one  of  the 
senior  Vestals,  her  time  was  quite  her  own.  «  Would  he  like 
to  have  her  go  out  with  him  to  visit  friends,  or  go  shopping  ? 
Or  could  she  do  anything  to  aid  him  about  ordering  frescoers 
and  carpenters  for  the  old  Praeneste  villa  ?  " 

This  last  was  precisely  what  Drusus  had  had  in  mind.     And 
so  forth  aunt  and  nephew  sallied.    Some  of  the  streets  they 
visited  were  so  narrow  that  they  had  to  send  back  even  their 
litters ;  but  everywhere  the  crowds  bowed  such  deference  and 
respect  to  the  Vestal's  white  robes  that  their  progress  was 
easy.    Drusus  soon  had  given  his  orders  to  cabinet-makers  and 
selected  the  frescoer's  designs.    It  remained  to  purchase  Cor- 
nelia's slave-boy.    He  wanted  not  merely  an  attractive  serving- 
lad,  but  one  whose  intelligence  and  probity  coulu     -»  relied 
upon ;  and  in  the  dealers'  stalls  not  one  of  the  dark  orientals, 
although  all  had  around  their  necks  tablets  with  long  lists  of 
encomiums,  promised  conscience  or  character.    Drusus  visited 
several  very  choice  boys  that  were  exhibited  in  separate  rooms, 
at  fancy  prices,  but  none  of  these  pretty  Greeks  or  Asiatics 
seemed  promising. 
Deeply  disgusted,  he  led  Fabia  away  from  the  slave-market. 
"  I  will  try  to-morrow,"  he  said,  vexed  at  his  defeat.     « I 
need  a  new  toga.     Let  us  go  to  the  shop  on  the  Clivus  Suburar 
nus ;  there  used  to  be  a  good  woollen  merchant,  Lucius  Marius, 
on  the  way  to  the  Porta  Esquilina." 

Accordingly  the  two  went  on  in  the  direction  indicated ;  but 
at  the  spot  where  the  Clivus  Suburanus  was  cut  by  the  Vicus 
Longus,  there  was  so  dense  a  crowd  and  so  loud  a  hubbub,  that 


THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  A  VESTAL 


43 


their  attendants  could  not  clear  a  way.  For  a  time  it  was  im- 
possible  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  Cireet  gamins  were 
howling,  and  idle  slaves  and  hucksters  'vere  pouring  forth  vol- 
leys of  taunts  and  derision  at  some  luckless  wight. 

"  Away  with  them !  the  whip-scoundrel !  Verbero  !  "  >  yelled 
a  lusty  produce-vender.  «'  Lash  him  again !  Tan  his  hide  for 
him!  Don't  you  enjoy  it?  Not  accustomed  to  such  rough 
handling,  eh !  my  pretty  sparrow  ?  " 

Fabia  without  the  least  hesitation  thrust  herself  into  the 
dirty-robed,  foul-mouthed  crowd.  At  sight  of  the  Vestal's  white 
dress  and  fillets  the  pack  gave  way  before  her,  as  a  swarm  of 
gnats  at  the  wave  of  a  hand.    Drusus  strode  at  her  heels. 

It  was  a  sorry  enough  sight  that  met  them  — though  not 
uncommon  in  the  age  and  place.  Some  wretched  slave-boy,  a 
slight,  delicate  fellow,  had  been  bound  to  the  bars  of  a  furca, 
and  was  being  driven  by  two  brutal  executioners  to  the  place 
of  doom  outside  the  gates.  At  the  street-crossing  he  had  sunk 
down,  and  all  the  blows  of  the  driver's  scourge  could  not  com- 
pel him  to  arise.  He  lay  in  the  dust,  writhing  and  moaning, 
with  the  great  welts  showing  on  his  bare  back,  where  the  brass 
knots  of  the  lash  had  stripped  away  the  cloth. 

«  Release  this  boy  !  Cease  to  beat  him ! "  cried  Fabia,  with 
a  commanding  mien,  that  made  the  crowd  shrink  further  back ; 
while  the  two  executioners  looked  stupid  and  sheepish,  but 
did  nothing. 

"Release  this  boy!"  commanded  the  Vestal.  "Dare  you 
hesitate  ?    Do  you  wish  to  undo  yourselves  by  defyin  r  me  ?  " 

"Mercy,  august  lady,"  cried  Alfidius,  — for  the  chief  execu- 
tioner was  he,  — with  a  supplicatory  gesture.  "If  our  mis- 
tress knows  that  her  commands  are  unexecuted,  it  is  we,  who 
are  but  slaves,  that  must  suffer ! " 

^  A  coarse  epithat. 


44 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


I  I 


I    i; 


"  Who  is  your  mistress  ?  »  demanded  Fabia. 

"Valeria,  wife  of  Lucius  Calatinus." 

"Livia's  precious  mother!"  whispered  Drusus.  "I  ean 
imagine  her  doing  a  thing  like  this."  Then  aloud,  « What 
has  the  boy  done  ?  " 

"  He  dropped  a  murrhine  vase,"  was  the  answer. 

"And  so  he  must  be  beaten  to  death !  "  exclaimed  the  young 
man,  who,  despite  the  general  theory  that  most  slaves  were  on 
a  par  with  cattle,  had  much  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  in 
his  nature.  "Phut!  What  brutality !  You  must  insist  on 
your  rights,  aunt.     Make  them  let  him  go." 

Sulkily  enough  the  executioners  unbound  the  heavy  furca. 
Agias  staggered  to  his  feet,  too  dazed  really  to  know  what 
deliverance  had  befallen  him. 

"Why  don't  you  thank  the  Vestal?"  said  Alfidius.  "She 
has  made  us  release  you — you  ungrateful  dog!" 

"Released?  Saved?"  gasped  Agias,  and  he  reeled  as 
though  his  head  were  in  a  whirl.  Then,  as  if  recollecting 
his  faculties,  he  fell  down  at  Fabia's  feet,  and  kissed  the  hem 
of  her  robe. 

"  The  gods  save  us  all  now,"  muttered  Alfidius.  « Vale  i"! 
will  swear  that  we  schemed  to  have  the  boy  released.  -  e 
shall  never  dare  to  face  her  again ! " 

"  Oh !  do  not  send  me  back  to  that  cruel  woman ! "  moaned 
Agias.  "  Better  die  now,  than  go  back  to  her  and  incur  her 
anger  again !    Kill  me,  but  do  not  send  me  back ! " 

And  he  broke  down  again  in  inward  agony. 

Drusus  had  been  surveying  the  boy,  and  saw  that  though 
he  was  now  in  a  pitiabl.  nough  state,  he  had  been  good-look- 
ing ;  and  that  though  his  back  had  been  cruelly  marred,  his 
fa  3  had  not  been  cut  with  the  lashes.  Perhaps  the  very  fact 
that  Agias  had  been  the  victim  of  Valeria,  and  the  high  con- 


N 


if 


THE  "rtlVILEGE  OF  A  VESTAL 


45 


tempt  in  which  the  yoiing  Drusian  held  his  divorced  step- 
mother, made  him  instinctively  take  the  outraged  boy's  part. 

"See  here,"  began  Drusus,  "were  you  to  be  whipped  by 
orders  of  Calatinus  ?  " 

"No,"  moaned  Agias ;  "Valeria  gave  the  orders.  My  mas- 
ter was  out," 

"  Ha ! "  remarked  Drusus  to  his  aunt,  "won't  the  good  man 
be  pleased  to  know  how  his  wife  has  killed  a  valuable  slave  in 
one  of  her  tantrums  ?  "  Then  aloud.  "  If  I  can  buy  you  of 
Calatinus,  and  give  you  to  the  Lady  Cornelia,  niece  of  Lentu- 
lus,  the  consul-elect,  will  you  serve  her  faithfully,  will  you 
make  her  wish  the  law  of  your  life?" 

"  I  will  die  for  her ! "  cried  Agias,  his  despair  mingled  with 
a  ray  of  hope. 

"  Where  is  your  master  ?  " 

"  At  the  Forum,  I  think,  soliciting  votes,"  replied  the  boy. 

"Well  then,  follow  me,"  said  Drusus,  "our  road  leads  back 
to  the  Forum.  We  may  meet  him.  H  I  can  arrange  with 
him,  your  executioners  have  nothing  to  fear  from  Valeria. 
Come  along." 

Agias  followed,  with  his  head  again  in  a  whirl. 

Ill 

The  little  company  worked  its  way  back  to  the  Forum,  not, 
as  now,  a  half-excavated  ruin,  the  gazing-stock  for  excursion- 
ists, a  commonplace  whereby  to  sum  up  departed  greatness: 
the  splendid  buildings  of  the  Empire  had  not  yet  arisen,  but 
the  structures  of  the  age  were  not  unimposing.  Here,  in  plain 
view,  was  the  Capitoline  HiU,  crowned  by  the  Temple  of 
Jupiter  Capitolinus  and  the  Arx.  Here  was  the  site  of  the 
Senate  House,  the  Curia  (then  burned),  in  which  the  men  who 
had  made  Rome  mistrcs3  of  the  world  had  taken  counsel 


I        1 


!     i 


4» 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


Every  stone,  every  basili  •  ^  uad  its  history  for  Drusus— though, 
be  it  said,  at  the  niomem  thr  ',oble  past  was  little  in  his  mind. 

IS  all  swarming,  beyond  other 

w-^..  g  crowd,  shoppers,  hucksters, 

■[)  Ti  '  searched  for  Calatinus  along 

I,  i  vst  the  Rostra,  the  Comitium,' 

''ht\i  they  were  almost  caught  in 

into  the  olaza  from  the  busy 


And  the  historic  enclosure 
places,  with  the  dirty, 
idlers.     Drusus  and  h'l  ■■ 
the  upper  side  of  the  1 1  r 
and  the  Temple  of  Sat,,  i  21 
the  dense  throng  that  v  ac 


"iV," 


commercial  thoroughfa-'-s    f  i..t;  \  1 
Tuscus.     But  just  as  t;  c  '  -:.*-v  lu  ■■ 
cuit  of  the  square,  and  i  rusus  w  u 
his  benevolent   intentioi!.-,  were 


-  "  .o-arius,  or  the  Vicus 

imost  completed  their  cir- 

beginning  to  believe  that 

»v'ling  him  on    a  bootless 


errand,  a  man  iu  a  conspicuously  wliire  toga  rushed  out  upon 
him  from  the  steps  of  the  Temple  of  Castor,  embraced  him 
violently,  and  imprinte-l  a  firm,  garlic-flavoured  kiss  on  both 
cheeks ;  crying  at  the  same  time  heartily :  — 

"Oh,  my  dear  Publius  Dorso,  I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you! 
How  are  all  your  affairs  up  in  Fidense  ?  " 

Drusus  recoiled  in  some  disgust,  and  began  rubbing  his  out 
raged  cheeks. 

"Dorso?  Dorso?  There  is  surely  some  mistake,  my  good 
man.     I  am  known  as  Quintus  Drusus  of  Prseneste." 

Before  he  had  gotten  further,  his  assailant  was  pounding 
and  shaking  a  frightened-looking  slave-lad  who  had  stood  at 
his  elbow. 

"The  gods  blast  you,  you  worthless  nomendator I '  You 
have  forgotten  the  worthy  gentleman's  name,  and  have  made 
me  play  the  fool !     You  may  have  lost  me  votes  !     All  Rome 

1  Comitium,  assembly-place  round  the  Rostra. 

a  Great  men,  and  candidates  for  office  who  wished  to  "  know  "  everybody 
kept  smart  slaves  at  their  elbow  to  whisper  strangers'  names  in  their  eai» 
Bomeumea  the  slaves  themselves  were  at  fault. 


ml 


THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  A  VESTAL 


4f 


will  hear  of  this !  I  shall  be  a  common  laughing-stock !  Heil 
vah!  But  I'lJ  teach  you  to  behave!"  And  he  shook  the 
wretched  boy  until  the  latter's  teeth  rattled. 

At  tbis  instant  a  young  man  of  faultless  toilet,  whom  we 
have  already  recognized  as  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  pushed  into 
the  little  knot  as  a  peacemaker. 

"  Most  excellent  Calatinus,"  said  he,  half  suppressing  his 
laughter  at  the  candidate's  fury,  the  nomenclator's  anguish, 
and  Drusu.s's  vexed  confusion,  "allow  me  to  introduce  to  you 
a  son  of  Sextus  Drusus,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  my  father's. 
This  is  Quintus  Drusus,  if  in  a  few  years  I  have  not  forgotten 
his  face  ;  and  this,  my  dear  Quintus.  is  my  good  friend  Lucius 
Calatinus,  wlio  would  be  glad  of  your  vot-i  and  irifluence  to 
help  on  his  candidiwy  as  tribune." 

The  atm.  .sphere  was  cleared  instantly.  Calatinus  forgot  his 
anger,  in  order  to  apo!  gize  in  the  most  obsequious  manner  for 
his  headlong  salutation.  Drusus,  pleased  to  find  the  man  he 
had  been  seeking,  forgave  the  vile  scent  of  the  garlic,  and  gra- 
ciously accepted  the  exi>lanation.  Then  the  way  was  oi)en  to 
ask  Calatinus  vhether  he  was  willing  to  dispose  of  A  gias.  The 
crestfallen  candidate  was  only  too  happy  to  do  something  to 
put  himself  right  with  the  person  he  had  offended.  Loudi  v  he 
i'ursed  his  wife's  temper,  that  would  have  wasted  a  siav< 
worth  a  "hundred  thousand  s»  .terces "  to  gratify  a  m-re 
burst  of  passion. 

"  Yes,  he  was  willing  to  sell  the  boy  to  accommodate  his 
excellency,  Quintus  Drusus,"  said  Calatinus,  "a  ho  ^h  ho 
was  a  valuable  slave.  Still,  in  aonesty  he  had  to  id  iit  that 
Airias  .  j,d  some  mischievous  points.  Calatin'j  lafi  l-oxed  his 
ears  only  the  day  before  for  licking  the  pastry.  Mut.  ime  his 
wife  disliked  the  fellow,  he  would  be  constrained  to  sell  him 
if  a  purchaser  would  take  him." 


18 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


The  result  of  the  conference  was  that  Drusus,  who  had 
inherited  that  keen  eye  for  business  which  went  with  most  of 
his  race,  purchased  Agias  for  thirty  thousand  sesterces,  con- 
siderably less  than  the  boy  would  have  brought  in  the  market. 

While  Drusus  was  handing  over  a  money  order  payable  with 
Flaccus,  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  again  came  forward,  with  all 
seeming  friendliness. 

"My  dear  Quintus,"  said  he,  "Marcus  LaBca  has  commis- 
sioned me  to  find  a  ninth  guest  to  fill  his  triclinium  *  this  even- 
ing. We  should  be  delighted  if  you  would  join  us.  I  don't 
know  what  the  good  Marcus  will  offer  us  to-night,  but  you  can 
be  sure  of  a  slice  of  peacock  *  and  a  few  other  nice  bits." 

"  I  am  very  grateful,"  replied  Drusus,  who  felt  all  the  while 
that  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  with 
whom  he  cared  to  spend  an  jvening's  carousing ;  "  but,"  and 
here  he  concocted  a  white  lie,  "an  old  friend  I  met  in  Athens 
has  already  invited  me  to  spend  the  night,  and  I  cannot  well 
refuse  him.     I  thank  you  for  your  invitation." 

Lucius  muttered  some  polite  and  conventional  terms  of 
regret,  and  fell  back  to  join  Servius  Flaccus  and  Gabinius, 
who  were  near  him. 

"I  invited  him  and  he  refused,"  he  said  half  scornfully, 
half  bitterly.  "That  little  minx,  Cornelia,  has  been  com- 
plaining of  me  to  him,  I  am  sure.  The  gods  ruin  him !  If 
he  wishes  to  become  my  enemy,  he'll  have  good  cause  to  fear 
my  bite." 

"  You  say  he's  from  Prteneste,"  said  Gabinius,  "  and  yet 
can  he  sjieak  decent  Latin  ?  Doesn't  he  say  '  conia  '  for  '  cico- 
nia,'  and  Uammodo'  for  'tantummoflo'?  i  wonder  you  invite 
such  a  boor." 

i  Dining  room  with  conch  seats  for  nine,  the  refi^nlar  sice. 
•  The  n«  plus  ultra  of  Roman  gastrtuomy  at  the  time. 


THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  A  VESTAL 


49 


"Oh!  he  can  speak  good  enough  Latin,"  said  Lucius. 
"  But  I  invited  him  because  he  is  rich ;  and  it  might  be  worth 
our  while  to  make  him  gamble." 

"  Rich ! "  lisped  Servius  Flaccus.  "  Rich  (h)as  my  (h)unclc 
the  broker?  That  silly  straightlac(h)ed  fellow,  who's  (h)a 
C(h)ato,  (h)or  worse  ?    For  shame ! " 

"  Well,"  said  Lucius.  "  old  Crassus  used  to  say  that  no  one 
who  covddn't  pay  out  of  his  own  purse  for  an  army  was  rich. 
But  though  Drusus  cannot  do  quite  that,  he  has  enough 
sesterces  to  make  happy  men  of  most  of  us,  if  his  fortune  were 
mine  or  yours." 

"  (H)its  (h)an  (h)outrage  for  him  to  have  (h)it,"  cried  Ser- 
vius Flaccus. 

"It's  worse  than  an  outrage,"  replied  Ahenobarbus;  "it's 
a  sheer  blunder  of  the  Fates.  Remind  nie  to  tell  you  about 
Drusus  and  his  fortune,  before  I  have  drunk  too  much 
to-night." 

Agias  went  away  rejoicing  with  his  new  master.  Drusus 
owned  an  apartment  house  on  the  Vicus  Longus,  and  there  had 
a  furnished  suite  of  rooms.  He  gave  Agias  into  the  charge  of 
the  porter,*  and  ordered  him  to  dress  the  boy's  wounds.  Cap- 
padox  waited  on  his  master  when  he  lunched. 

"  Master  Quintus,"  said  he,  with  the  familiar  air  of  a  privi- 
leged servant,  "did  you  see  that  knavish-looking  Gabinias 
following  Madame  Fabia  all  the  way  back  to  the  Temple  of 
Vesta?" 

"  No,"  said  Drusus ;  "  what  do  you  mean,  you  silly  fellow  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Cappadox,  humbly.  "  I  only  thought 
it  a  little  queer." 

^  Perhaps  so,"  said  his  master,  carelessly. 

1  Purtar  —  Intulortut. 


CHAPTER  IV 

LUCIUS  AHBNOBARBU8   AIKS   HIS  GSIE.'ANCB 


::\ 


The  pomp  and  gluttony  of  Roman  banquets  have  been  too 
often  described  to  need  repetition  here ;  neither  would  we  be 
edified  by  learning  all  the  orgies  that  Marcus  Lseca  (an  old 
Catilinian  conspirator)  and  his  eight  guests  indulged  in  that 
night :  only  after  the  dinner  had  been  cleared,  and  before  the 
Gadesian »  dancing  girls  were  called  in,  the  dice  began  to  rat- 
tle, and  speedily  all  were  engrossed  in  drink  and  play. 

Lucius  Ahenobarbus  soon  lost  so  heavily  that  he  was  curs- 
ing every  god  that  presided  over  the  noble  game. 

«*  I  a:  ruined  next  I(^es,"  he  groaned.  "  Phormio  the  broker 
has  only  continued  my  loan  at  four  per  cent  a  month.  All  my 
villas  and  furniture  are  mortgaged,  and  will  be  sold  at  auction. 
Meherde,  destruction  stares  me  in  the  face ! " 

«  Well,  well,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Pratinas,  who,  having 
won  the  stakes,  was  in  a  mood  to  be  syr  pathetic,  "  we  must 
really  see  what  can  be  done  to  remedy  matters." 

"  I  can  see  nothing  I "  was  his  answer. 

"Won't  your  father  come  to  the  rescue  ?"  put  in  Gabinius, 
between  deep  pulls  on  a  beaker. 

"My  father!"  snapped  Ahenobarbus.  "Never  a  sesterce 
will  I  get  out  of  him  I    He's  as  good  as  turned  me  adrift,  and 

1  /rom  Cadiz,  Spain. 
M 


AHENOBARBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE        61 

Cato  my  uncle  is  always  giving  him  bad  reports  of  me,  like 
the  hypocritical  Stoic  that  Cato  is." 

"By  the  bye,"  began  Gabinius  again,  putting  down  the 
wine-cup,  "you  hinted  to-day  that  you  had  been  cheated  out 
of  a  fortune,  after  a  manner.  Something  about  that  Drusus  of 
Praeneste,  if  I  recollect.    What's  the  story  ?  " 

Lucius  settled  down  on  his  elbow,  readjusted  the  cushions 
on  the  banqueting  couch,  and  then  began,  interrupted  by  many 
a  hiccough  because  of  his  potations. 

"  It  is  quite  a  story,  but  I  won't  bore  you  with  details.  It 
has  quite  as  much  to  do  with  Cornelia,  Lentulus  Crus's  pretty 
niece,  as  with  Drusus  himself.  Here  it  is  in  short.  Sextus 
Drusus  and  Caius  Lentulus  were  such  good  friends  that,  as 
you  know,  they  betrothed  their  son  and  daughter  when  the  lat- 
ter were  mere  children.  To  make  the  compact  doubly  strong, 
Sextus  Drusus  inserted  in  his  will  a  clause  like  this :  '  Let  my 
son  Quintus  enjoy  the  use  of  my  estate  and  its  income,  until 
he  become  twenty-five  and  cease  to  be  under  the  care  of  Flac- 
cus  his  tHtor,^  If  he  die  before  that  time,  let  his  property  go 
to  Cornelia,  the  daughter  of  Caius  Lentulus,  except ; '  and  here 
Sextus  left  a  small  legacy  for  his  own  young  daughter,  Livia. 
You  see  Drusus  can  make  no  will  until  he  is  five-and-twenty. 
But  then  comes  another  provision.  '  If  Cornelia  shall  marry 
any  person  save  my  son,  my  son  shall  at  once  be  free  to  dis- 
pose of  my  estates.'  So  Cornelia  is  laid  under  a  sort  of  obli- 
gation also  to  marry  Quintus.  The  whole  aim  of  the  will  is 
to  make  it  very  hard  for  the  young  people  to  fail  to  wed  as 
their  fathers  wished." 

"True,"  said  Gabinius;  "but  how  such  an  arrangement  can 
affect  you  and  your  affairs,  I  really  cannot  understand." 

"That  is  80,"  continued  Ahenobarbus,  "but  here  is  the 

*  Commercial  advlcer  required  tor  young  men  under  five-and-twenty. 


S2 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


other  side  of  t  ue  matter.  Caius  Lentiilus  was  a  firm  friend  of 
Sextus  Drusut ;  he  also  was  very  close  and  dear  to  my  father. 
Caius  desired  that  Cornelia  wed  young  Drusu8,and  so  enjoined 
her  in  his  will;  but  out  of  compliment  to  my  father,  put  in  a 
clause  which  was  something  like  this :  '  If  Quintus  Drusus  die 
before  he  marry  Cornelia,  or  refuse  to  marry  Cornelia  at  the 
proper  time,  then  let  Cornelia  and  all  her  property  be  given  to 
Lucius,  the  second  son  of  my  dearly  loved  friend,  Lucius  Do- 
mitius  Ahenobarbus.'  Now  I  think  you  will  begin  to  see  why 
Quintus  Drusus's  affairs  interest  me  a  little.  If  he  refuse  to 
marry  Cornelia  before  he  be  five-and-twenty,  she  falls  to  me. 
But  I  understand  that  Lentulus,  her  uncle,  is  badly  in  debt,  and 
her  dowry  won't  be  much.  But  if  Di-usus  is  not  married  to  her, 
and  die  before  he  is  twenty-five,  his  property  is  hers  and  she  is  mine. 
Do  you  understand  why  I  have  a  little  grudge  against  hiir  ?  " 
"  For  what  ?  "  cried  Laeca,  with  bi(>athless  interest. 
"  For  living ! "  sighed  Ahenobarbus,"  hopelessly. 
The  handsome  face  of  Pratinas  was  a  study.  His  nostrils 
dilated;  his  lips  quivered;  his  eyes  were  bright  and  keen 
with  what  evidently  passed  in  his  mind  for  a  great  discovery. 

"  Eureka ! "  cried  the  Greek,  clapping  his  hands.    "  My 
dear  Lucius,  let  me  congratulate  you !    You  are  saved ! " 
"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  starting  up. 
"  You    are    saved ! "    repeated    Pratinas,    all    animation. 
"  Drusus's  sesterces  shall  be  yours !    Every  one  of  them ! " 
Lucius  Ahenobarbus  was  a  debauchee,  a  mere  creature  of 
pleasure,  without  principle  or  character;  but  even  he  had  a 
revulsion  of  spirit  at  the  hardly  masked  proposal  of  the  enthu- 
siastic Greek.    He  flushed  in  spite  of  the  wine,  then  turned 
pale,  then  stamiuered,  "  Don't  mention  such  a  thing,  Pratinas. 
I  was  never  Drusus's  enemy.    I  dare  not  dream  of  such  a 
move.    The  Godi  forefend  1 " 


AHENOBARBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE         63 

"  The  Gods  ?  "  repeated  Pratinas,  with  a  cynical  intonation. 
"  Do  you  believe  there  are  any  ?  " 

"  Do  you  ?  "  retorted  Lucius,  feeling  all  the  time  that  a 
deadly  temptation  had  hold  of  him,  which  he  could  by  no 
means  resist. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  the  Greek.  "  Your  Latin  Ennius  states  my 
view,  in  some  of  your  rather  rough  and  blundering  native 
tetrameters.    He  says :  — 

" '  There's  a  race  of  gods  in  heaven  ;  so  I've  said  and  still  will  say. 
But  I  deem  that  we  poor  mortals  do  not  come  beneath  their  sway. 
Otherwise  the  good  would  triumph,  whereas  evil  reigns  to-day,'  " 

"  And  you  advise  ?  "  said  Ahenobarbus,  leaning  forward  with 
pent-up  excitement. 

"  I  advise  ?  "  replied  Pratinas ;  "  I  am  only  a  poor  ignorant 
Hellene,  and  who  am  I,  to  give  advice  to  Lucius  Domitius  Aheno- 
barbus, a.  most  noble  member  of  the  most  noble  of  nations ! " 

If  Pratinas  had  said:  "My  dear  Lucius,  you  are  a  thick- 
headed, old-fashioned,  superstitious  Roman,  whom  I,  in  my 
superior  wisdom,  utterly  despise,"  he  would  have  produced 
about  the  same  effect  upon  young  Ahenobarbus. 

But  Lucius  still  fluttered  vainly, — a  very  weak  conscience 
whispering  that  Drusus  had  never  done  him  any  harm ;  that 
murder  was  a  dangerous  game,  and  that  altho  igh  his  past  life 
had  been  bad  enough,  he  had  never  made  any  t)ne  —  unless 
it  were  a  luckless  slave  or  two — the  victim  of  bloodthirsty 
passion  or  rascality. 

"  Don't  propose  it,"  he  groaned.  "  I  don't  dare  to  think  of 
such  a  thing!  What  disgrace  and  trouble,  if  it  should  all 
come  out ! " 

"  Come,  come,  Ahenobarbus,"  thrust  in  Marcus  Laeca,  who 
had  been  educated  in  Catilina's  school  fur  polite  villains  and 


Hi 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


i! 


,at-throat8.  "  Pratinas  is  only  proposing  what,  if  you  were  a 
man  of  spirit,  would  have  been  done  long  ago.  You  can't  com- 
plain of  Fortune,  when  she's  put  a  handsome  estate  in  your 
hands  for  the  asking." 

"My  admirable  fellow,"  said  Pratinas,  benevolently,  "I 
highly  applaud  your  scruples.  But,  permit  me  to  say  it,  I 
must  ask  you  to  defer  to  me  as  being  a  philosopher.  Let  us 
look  at  the  matter  in  a  rational  way.  We  have  gotten  over 
any  bogies  which  our  ancesters  had  about  Hades,  or  the  pun- 
ishments of  the  wicked.  In  fact,  what  we  know  —  as  good 
Epicureans  —  is  that,  as  Democritus  of  Abdera*  early  taught, 
this  world  of  ours  is  composed  of  a  vast  number  of  infinitely 
small  and  indivisible  atoms,  which  have  by  some  strange  hap 
come  to  take  the  forms  we  see  in  the  world  of  life  and  matter. 
Now  the  soul  of  man  is  also  of  atoms,  only  they  are  finer  and 
more  subtile.  At  death  these  atoms  are  dissolved,  and  so  far 
as  that  man  is  concerned,  all  is  over  with  him.  The  atoms 
may  recombine,  or  join  with  others,  but  never  form  anew  that 
same  man.  Hence  we  may  fairly  conclude  that  this  life  is 
everything  and  death  ends  all.  Do  you  follow,  and  see  to 
what  I  am  leading  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  the  wretched  Lucius,  feeling  himself  like 
a  bird  caught  in  a  snare,  yet  not  exactly  grasping  the  direct 
bearing  of  all  this  learned  exposition. 

«  My  application  is  this,"  went  on  Pratinas,  glibly.  "  Life  is 
all  — all  either  for  pleasure  or  pain.  Therefore  every  man 
has  a  right  to  extract  all  the  sweetness  he  can  out  of  it.  But 
suppose  a  man  deliberately  makes  himself  gloomy,  extracts  no 
joy  from  life ;  lets  himself  be  overborne  by  care  and  sorrow, 
— is  not  such  a  man  better  dead  than  living  ?  Is  not  a  dream- 
less sleep  preferable  to  misery  or  even  cold  asceticism  ?    And 

1  Boru  about  470  B.C. 


AHENOBARBUS   AIRS   HIS   GRIEVANCE         66 


how  much  more  does  this  all  apply  when  we  see  a  man  who 
makes  himself  unhappy,  preventing  by  his  very  act  of  exist- 
ence the  happiness  of  another  more  equably  tempered  mortal  I 
Now  I  believe  this  is  the  present  case.  Drusus,  I  understand, 
is  leading  a  spare,  joyless,  workaday  sort  of  existence,  which 
is,  or  by  every  human  law  should  be,  to  him  a  burden.  So 
long  as  he  lives,  he  prevents  you  from  enjoying  the  means  of 
acquiring  pleasure.  Now  I  have  Socrates  of  imperishable 
memory  on  my  side,  when  I  assert  that  death  under  any  cir- 
cumstances is  either  no  loss  or  a  very  great  gain.  Considering 
then  the  facts  of  the  case  in  its  philosophic  and  rational  bear- 
ings, I  may  say  this :  Not  merely  would  it  be  no  wrong  to 
remove  Drusus  from  a  world  in  which  he  is  evidently  out  of 
place,  but  I  even  conceive  such  an  act  to  rise  to  the  rank  of  a 
truly  meritorious  deed." 

Lucius  Ahenobarbus  was  conquered.  He  could  not  resist 
the  inexorable  logic  of  this  train  of  reasoning,  all  the  premises 
of  which  he  fully  accepted.  Perhaps,  we  should  add,  he  was 
not  very  unwilling  to  have  his  wine-befuddled  intellect  satisfied, 
and  his  conscience  stilled.  He  turned  down  a  huge  beaker  of 
liquor,  and  coughed  forth :  — 

"  Right  as  usual,  Pratinas  !  By  all  the  gods,  but  I  believe 
you  can  save  me !  " 

"Yes;  as  soon  as  Drusus  is  dead,"  insinuated  the  Greek 
who  was  already  computing  his  bill  for  brokerage  in  this  little 
aifair,  "you  can  raise  plenty  of  loans,  on  the  strength  of  your 
coming  marriage  with  Cornelia." 

"  But  how  will  you  manage  it  ?  "  put  in  the  alert  Gabinius. 
'There  mustn't  be  any  clumsy  bungling." 

"  Rest  assured,"  said  Pratinas,  with  a  grave  dignity,  perhaps 
the  result  of  his  drinking,  "  that  in  my  affairs  I  leave  no  room 
for  bungling." 


w 


M 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SSAB 


"  And  your  plan  is  —  "  asked  Lucius. 

"  Till  to-morrow,  friend,"  said  the  Greek ;  "  meet  me  at  the 
Temple  of  Saturn,  just  before  dusk.    Then  I'll  be  ready." 


n 

Lucius  Ahenobarbtts's  servants  escorted  their  tipsy  master 
home  to  his  lodgings  in  a  fashionable  apartment  hou»e  on  the 
Esquiline.  When  he  awoke,  it  was  late  the  next  day,  and 
head  and  wits  were  both  sadly  the  worse  for  the  recent  enter- 
tainment. Finally  a  bath  and  a  luncheon  cleared  his  brain, 
and  he  realized  his  position.  He  was  on  the  brink  of  concoct- 
ing a  deliberate  murder.  Drusus  had  never  wronged  him ;  the 
crime  would  be  unprovoked ;  avarice  would  be  its  only  justifica- 
tion. Ahenobarbus  had  done  many  things  which  a  far  laxer  code 
of  ethics  than  that  of  to-day  would  frown  upon ;  but,  as  said, 
he  had  never  committed  murder  —  at  least  had  only  had  cruci- 
fied those  luckless  slaves,  who  did  not  count.  He  roused  with 
a  start,  as  from  a  dream.  What  if  Pratinas  were  wrong? 
What  if  there  were  really  gods,  and  furies,  and  punishments 
for  the  wicked  after  death  ?  And  then  came  the  other  side  of 
the  shield :  a  great  fortune  his ;  all  his  debts  paid  off ;  unlim- 
ited chances  for  self-enjoyment;  last,  but  not  least,  Cornelia 
his.  She  had  slighted  him,  and  turned  her  back  upon  all  his 
advances ;  and  now  what  perfect  revenge !  Lucius  was  more 
in  love  with  Cornelia  than  he  admitted  even  tv  himself.  He 
would  even  give  up  Clyte,  if  he  could  possess  her.  And  so 
the  mental  battle  went  on  all  day ;  and  the  prick  of  conscience, 
the  fears  of  superstition,  and  the  lingerings  of  religion  ever  grew 
fainter.  Near  nightfall  h-  was  at  his  post,  at  the  Temple  of 
Saturn.  Pratinas  was  awaiting  him.  The  Greek  had  only  a 
few  words  of  greeting,  and  the  curt  injunction :  — 


AIIENOBAEBUS  AIBS  HIS  GRIEVANCE        67 

"Draw  your  cloak  up  to  shield  your  face,  and  follow  me." 
Then  they  passed  out  from  the  Forum,  forced  their  way 
through  the  crowded  streets,  and  soon  were  through  the  Porta 
E(Uumena,  outside  the  walls,  and  struck  out  across  the  Campus 
Martius,  upon  the  Via  Flaminia.  It  was  rapidly  darkening. 
The  houses  grew  fewer  and  fewer.  At  a  little  distance  the 
dim  structures  of  the  Portico  and  Theatre  of  Pompeius  could 
be  seen,  looming  up  to  an  exaggerated  size  in  the  evening  haze. 
A  grey  fog  was  drifting  up  from  the  Tiber,  and  out  of  a  rift 
in  a  heavy  cloud-bank  a  beam  of  the  imprisoned  moon  was 
struggling.  Along  the  road  were  peasants  with  their  carts 
and  asses  hastening  home.  Over  on  the  Pincian  Mount  the 
dark  green  masset  of  the  splendid  gardens  of  Pompeius  and  of 
Lucullus  were  just  visible.  The  air  was  filled  with  the  croak 
of  frogs  and  the  chirp  of  crickets,  and  from  the  river  came  the 
creak  of  the  sculls  and  paddles  of  a  cumbrous  barge  that  was 
working  its  way  down  the  Tiber. 

Ahenobarbus  felt  awed  and  uncomfortable.  Pratinas,  with 
his  mantle  wrapped  tightly  around  his  head,  continued  at  a 
rapid  pace.  Lucius  had  left  his  attendants  at  home,  and  now 
began  to  recall  gruesome  tales  of  highwaymen  and  bandits 
frequenting  this  region  after  dark.  His  fears  were  not  al- 
layed by  noticing  that  underneath  his  himation  Pratinas 
occasionally  let  the  hilt  of  a  short  sword  peep  forth.  Still 
the  Greek  kept  on,  never  turning  to  glance  at  a  filthy,  half- 
clad  beggar,  who  whined  after  them  for  an  alms,  and  who 
did  not  so  much  as  throw  a  kiss  after  the  young  Roman 
when  the  latter  tossed  forth  a  denarius,^  but  snatched  up  the 
coin,  muttered  at  its  being  no  more,  and  vanished  into  the 
gathering  gloom. 

"  Where  are  you  leading  me  ?  "  asked  Ahenobarbus,  a  second 

^  Four  M8terc«8, 16  cents. 


58 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


time,  after  all  his  efforts  to  communicate  with  the  xisually  fluent 
Greek  met  with  only  monosyllables. 

"To  the  lanista^  Dumnorix,"  replied  Pratinas,  quickening  an 
already  rapid  pace. 

"  And  his  barracks  are  —  ?  " 
"  By  the  river,  near  the  Mulvian  bridge." 
At  length  a  pile  of  low  square  buildings  was  barely  visible  in 
the  haze.     It  was  olose  to  the  Tiber,  and  the  rush  of  the  water 
against  the  piling  of  the  bridge  was  distinctly  audible.     As  the 
two  drew  near  to  a  closed  gateway,  a  number  of  mongrel  dogs 
began  to  snap  and  bark  around  them.    From  within  the  build- 
ing came  the  roar  of  coarse  hilarity  and  coarser  jests.    As  Pra- 
tinas approached  the  solidly  barred  doorway,  a  grating  was 
pushed  aside  and  a  rude  voice  demanded :  — 
"  Your  business  ?    What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
"  Is  Dumnorix  sober  ?  "  replied  Pratinas,  nothing  daunted. 
"  If  so,  tell  him  to  come  and  speak  with  me.    I  have  something 
for  his  advantage." 

Either  Pratinas  was  well  known  at  the  gladiators'  school,  or 
something  in  his  speech  procured  favour.  There  was  a  rattling 
of  chains  and  bolts,  and  the  door  swung  open.  A  man  of  un- 
usual height  and  ponderous  proportions  appeared  in  the  open- 
ing.    That  was  all  which  could  be  seen  in  the  serai-darkness. 

«  You  are  Pratinas  ?  "  he  asked,  speaking  Latin  witli  a  north- 
ern accent.  The  Hellene  nodded,  and  replied  softly  :  "  Yes.  No 
noise.     Tell  Diunnorix  to  come  quietly." 

The  two  stepped  in  on  to  the  flags  of  a  courtyard,  and  the 
doorkeeper,  after  rebolting,  vanished  into  the  building.  Aheno- 
barbuK  could  only  see  that  he  was  standing  in  a  large  stone- 
paved  ourt,  perhaps  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  wide  and 
considerably  I  )ugt  r.     A  colonnade  of  low  whitewashed  pil- 

lK«#p€r  <i(  a  school  of  {{ladiators. 


AHENOBAKBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE 


59 


lars  ran  all  about :  and  behind  them  stretched  rows  of  small 
rooms  and  a  few  larger  apartments.  There  were  tyros  practis- 
ing with  wooden  swords  in  one  of  the  rooms,  whence  a  light 
streamed,  and  a  knot  of  older  gladiators  was  urging  them  on, 
mocking,  praising,  and  criticising  their  efforts.  Now  and  then 
a  burly  gladiator  would  stroll  across  the  court ;  but  the  young 
noble  and  his  escort  remained  hidden  in  shadow. 

Presently  a  door  opened  at  the  other  end  of  the  courtyard, 
and  some  one  with  a  lantern  began  to  come  toward  the  en- 
trance. Long  before  the  stranger  was  near,  Ahenobarbus 
thought  he  was  rising  like  a  giant  out  of  the  darkness ;  and 
when  at  last  Dumnorix  —  for  it  was  he  —  was  close  at  hand,  both 
Roman  and  Greek  seemed  veritable  dwarfs  beside  him. 

Dumnorix  —  so  far  as  he  could  be  seen  in  the  lantern  light  — 
was  a  splendid  specimen  of  a  northern  giant.     He  was  at  least 
SIX  feet  five  inches  in  height,  and  broad  proportionately.    His 
fair  straight  hair  tumbled  in  disorder  over  his  shoulders,  and 
his  prodigiously  long  mustaches  seemed,  to  the  awed  Ahenobar- 
bus, almost  to  curl  down  to  his  neck.    His  breath  came  in  hot 
pants  like  a  winded  horse,  and  when  he  spoke,  it  was  in  short 
Latin  monosyllables,  interlarded  with  outlandish  Gallic  oaths 
He  wore  cloth  trousers  with  bright  stripes  of  red  and  orange 
a  short-sleeved  cloak  of  dark  stuff,  falling  down  to  the  thigh 
and  over  the  cloak,  covering  back  and  shoulders,  another  sleeve 
less  mantle,  clasped  under  the  chin  with  a  huge  golden  buckle 
At  his  right  thigh  hung,  from  a  silver  set  girdle,  by  weighty 
bronze  chains,  a  heavy  sabre,  of  which  the  steel  scabbard  banged 
noisily  as  its  owner  advanced. 

"  Holla !  Pratinas,"  cried  the  Gaul,  as  he  came  close.  "  By  the 
holy  oak !  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you !  Come  to  my  room.  Have  a 
flagon  of  our  good  northern  mead." 

•'Hist,"  said  the  Greek,  cautiously.    "Not  so  boisterous. 


60 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


Better  stay  here  in  the  dark.     I  can't  tell  who  of  your  men  may 
hear  ns." 

"  As  you  say,"  said  Dumnorix,  setting  down  the  light  at  a 
little  distance  and  coming  closer. 

"  You  remember  that  little  affair  of  last  year,"  said  Pratinas, 
continuing;— "how  you  helped  me  get  rid  of  a  witness  in  a 
very  troublesome  law  case  ?  " 

"Ha!  ha!"  chuckled  the  giant,  "I  wish  I  had  the  sesterces 
I  won  then,  in  my  coffer  now." 

"Well,"  replied  Pratinas,  « I  don't  need  to  tell  you  what  I 
and  my  noble  friend  here  —  Lucius  Domitius  Ahenobarbus  — 
have  come  for.  A  little  more  business  along  the  same  line. 
Are  you  our  man  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  so,"  answered  Dumnorix,  with  a  grin  worthy 
of  a  baboon.     "  Only  make  it  worth  my  while." 

"Now,"  said  Pratinas,  sinking  his  voice  still  lower,  "this 
affair  of  ours  will  pay  you  well ;  but  it  is  more  delicate  than 
the  other.  A  blunder  will  spoil  it  all.  You  must  do  your  best ; 
and  we  will  do  the  fair  thing  by  you." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  Gaul,  folding  his  huge  paws  on  his  breast. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  Praeneste  ?  "  questioned  Pratinas. 

"I  matched  two  mirmiUones^  of  mine  there  against  two 

threces  '  of  another  lanista,  and  my  dogs  won  the  prize ;  but  I 

can't  say  that  I  am  acquainted  with  the  place,"  answered  the 

other. 

"You  should  find  out,  then,"  said  Pratinas,  "for  here  lies 
your  work."  And  then  he  proceeded,  with  occasional  prompt- 
ing from  the  better-informed  Ahenobarbus,  to  point  out  the 
location  of  Drusus's  estate,  and  the  character  and  habits  of  the 
man  whom  Dumnorix  was  cheerfully  proposing  to  put  out  of 
the  way.  Dumnorix  assented  and  bade  him  go  on,  with  hoarse 
^  Qladiators  equipped  as  (Jaolish  warrion.  >  Buckler  men. 


AHENOBARBUS   AIRS  HIS  GRIEVVXCE         61 

gnmts;  and  when  the  Greek  had  concluded,  growl -d  out  in  hia 
barbarous  Latin :  — 

«  But  why  all  this  pother  ?  Why  not  let  me  send  a  knave 
or  two  and  knock  the  fellow  some  dark  night  in  tlie  head  ?  It 
will  save  us  both  time  and  trouble." 

"My  excellent  master  of  the  gladiators,"  said  Pratinas,  as 
smcthly  as  ever,  "you  must  not  take  it  ill,  if  I  teil  you  that 
o  h«  e  a  taking  off  such  as  you  propose  would  lye  a  very  bad 
thing  both  for  you  and  the  most  noble  Ahenol  arbus.     This 
Drusus  is  not  p  helpless  wight,   vithout  fiipuds,  waitius?  to 
become  the  fair  prey  of  any  dagger  man^    Up  has  frienis,  I 
have  learned,  who,  if  he  were  to  be  dispo^pd  of  ir  such  a  rude 
and  bungling  manner,  would  not  fail  to  probe  (i^^ply  :nto  the 
whole  thing.     Flaccus  the  great  banker,  notably,  ''muki  .pare 
no  pains  to  briug  the  responsibility  of  the  matter  home,  not 
merely  to  the  poor  wretch  who  stru(  k  tne  blow,  l)ut  the  ])er. 
sons  who  placed  the  weapon  in  his  hands.    All  of  which  would 
be  very  awkward  for  Ahenobarbus.    No,  your  rough-and-ready 
plan  won't  in  the  least  work." 

"Well,"  replied  Dumnorix,  testily  "I'm  a  man  of  shallow 
wits  and  hard  blows.  If  I  had  been  of  keener  mind,  the  gods 
know,  I  would  have  been  a  free  chief  among  the  Nervii, 
instead  of  making  sport  for  these  straw-limbed  Romans.  If 
what  I  propose  won't  answer,  what  can  be  done  ?  " 

"A  great  deal,"  said  Pratinas,  who  knew  perfectly  how  to 
cringe  low,  yet  preserve  his  ascendency ;  "  first  of  all,  it  is  very. 
necessary  that  ,  le  murderers  of  the  amiable  Drusus  shoulu 
receive  a  meet  reward  for  their  crime  — that  justice  should 
be  speedy  and  severe." 

"Man!"  cried  Dumnorix,  griping  the  Greek's  arm  in  his 
tremendous  clutch.     «  What  are  you  asking  ?  " 

1  Micariui. 


62 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


! 


1 


By  Zeus!"  burst  out  Pratinas,  rubbing  his  crushed  mem> 
ber.    "What  a  grip  is  yours!     Don't  be  alarmed.    Surely  you 
would  be  as  wiUiug  to  have  one  or  two  of  your  newest  tiros 
hung  on  a  cross,  as  stabbed  on  the  arena— especially  when  it 
will  pay  a  great  deal  better  ?  " 
« I  don't  follow  you,"  said  the  Gaul,  though  a  little  reassured. 
"  Simply  this,"  said  Pratinas,  who  evidently  felt  that  he  was 
coming  to  the  revealing  of  an  especially  brilliant  piece  of 
M^sse.    "My  general   proposal  is  this.     Let  you  and  your 
company  march  through  Prameste,  -  of  course  carefully  tira- 
mg  your  march  so  as  to  find  the  innocent  and  unfortunate 
Drusus  at  his  farm.     You  will  have  a  very  disorderly  band 
of  gladiators,  and  they  begin  to  attack  Drusus's  orchard,  and 
maltreat  his  slaves.     You  try  to  stop  them,  _  without  avail. 
Finally,  m  a  most  unfortunate  and  outrageous  outbreak  they 
slay  the  master  of  the  house.     The  tumult  is  quelled.     The 
aeirs  proceed  against  you.     You  can  only  hand  over  the  mur- 
derers for  crucifixion,  and  offer  to  pay  any  money  damages 
that  may  be  iini)osed.     A  heavy  fine  is  laid  upon  you,  as 
being  responsible  for  the  killing  of  Drusus  by  your  slaves. 
>ou  pay  the  damages.     Ahenobarbus  marries  Cornelia  and 
enters  upon  the  estate.     The  world  says  that  all  that  can  be 
done  to  atone  for  Drusus's  murder  has  been  done.     All  of  the 
guilty  are  punished.     The  dead  cannot  be  recalled.     The  mat- 
ter is  at  an  end.     Ahenobarbus  has  what  he  wished  for;  you 
have  all  the  money  you  paid  in  damages  quietly  refunded- 
also  the  cost  of  the  poor  rascals  crucified,  and  a  fair  sum  over 
and  above  for  your  trouble." 

"By  the  god  Helew!"'  cried  the  enthusiastic  Dumnorix 
"  What  a  clever  plan  !  How  the  worhl  will  be  cheated !  Ha » 
ha!     How  sharp  you  little  Greeks   must  be.     Only  I  must 

'  The  aallio  suu-god. 


AHENOBARBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE        63 

have  fair  return  for  my  work,  and  an  oath  that  the  business 
shall  never  be  coming  to  the  point  of  giving  my  eyes  to  the 
crows.    I  can't  risk  my  life  in  anything  but  a  square  fight." 

"  Well,"  said  Pratinas,  after  a  few  words  with  his  compan- 
ion,  "  how  will  this  proposition  suit  you  ?  All  expenses,  before 
and  after  the  affair  itself,  of  course  refunded;  one  hundred 
thousand  sesterces  clear  gain  for  doing  the  deed,  twenty-five 
thousand  sesterces  for  every  poor  fellow  we  have  to  nail  up 
to  satisfy  the  law,  and  you  to  be  guaranteed  agiinst  any  evil 
consequence.     Is  this  sufficient '.' " 

"  I  think  so,"  growled  Duuinorix,  in  his  mustaches,  "  but  I 
must  have  the  oath." 

" The  oath  ?  "  said  Pratinas,  "oh,  certainly ! "  and  the  Greek 
raised  his  hands  toward  heaven,  and  muttered  some  words  to 
the  effect  that  "  if  he  and  his  friend  did  not  fulfil  their  oath, 
let  Zeus,  the  regarder  of  oaths,  destroy  them,"  etc.,  etc.  —  an 
imprecation  which  certainly,  so  far  as  words  went,  was  strong 
enough  to  hind  the  most  graceles.s.    Then  he  proceeded  to 
arrange  with  Dumnorix  how  the  latter  should  wait  until  it 
was  known  Drusus  had  gone  back  to  Pra^neste,  and  was  likely 
to  stay  there  for  some  time ;  as  to  how  many  gladiators  the 
lanista  was  to  have  ready.     Dumnorix  complained  that  the 
rather  recent  law   against  keeping  gladiators  at   Rome  pre- 
vented him  fn)m  assembling  in  his  school  any  considerable 
number.     Hut  out  of  his  heterogeneous  collection  of  Gauls, 
(Jermans,  Spaniards,  Greeks,  and  Asiatics  he  would  find  enough 
who  could  \ie  used  for  the  purpose  withojit  letting  them  know 
the  full  intent  with  which  they  wc :o  launched  against  Dnisus. 
At  all  events,  if  their  testimony  was  taken,  it  would  have  to 
be  as  slaves  on  the  rack ;  and  if  they  accused  their  master  of 
instigating  then>  to  riot,  it  was  what  any  jwrson  would  expect 
of  such  degraded  and  lying  wretches.     So,  after  i)rumi8ing  to 


64 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


I 


come  again  with  final  word  and  some  bags  of  earnest-money, 
Pratinas  parted  with  the  lanista,  and  he  and  Lucius  Aheno- 
barbus  found  themselves  again  in  the  now  entirely  darkened 
Campus  Martius.    Lucius  again  feared  brigands,  but  they  fell 
in  with  no  unpleasant  nocturnal  wayfarers,  and  reached  the 
city  without  incident.    Ahenobarbus  seemed  to  himself  to  be 
treading  on    air— Cornelia,  villas,  Drusus's  money—these 
were  dancing  in  his  head  in  a  delightful  confusion.    He  had 
abandoned  himself  completely  to  the  sway  of  Pratinas;  the 
Greek  was  omniscient,  was  invincible,  was  a  greater  than 
Odysseus.    Ahenobarbus  hardly  dared  to  think  for  himself 
as  to  the  plan  which  his  friend  had  arranged  for  him.    One 
observation,  however,  he  made  before  they  parted. 

"You  swore  that  Duranorix  should  get  into  no  trouble. 
May  it  not  prove  expensive  to  keep  liim  out  of  difficulty?" 
"My  dear  Lucius,"  replied  Pratinas,  "in  cases  of  that  kind 
there  is  a  line  from  the  Hippolytus  of  the  immortal  trage- 
dian  Euripides,  which  indicates  the  correct  attitude  for  a  phi- 
losopher and  a  man  of  discretion  to  assume      It  runs  thus,  — 

"  '  My  tongue  an  oath  took,  but  my  mind's  unsworn.' 
Not  an  inelegant  sentiment,  as  you  must  see." 

Ill 

We  left  the  excellent  man  of  learning,  Pisander,  in  no 
happy  frame  of  mind,  after  Agias  had  been  dragged  away, 
presumably  to  speedy  doom.  And  indeed  for  many  days  the 
shadow  of  Valeria's  crime,  for  it  was  nothing  else,  plunged 
him  in  deep  melancholy.  Pisander  was  not  a  fool,  only 
amongst  his  many  good  qualities  he  did  not  possess  that  of 
being  able  to  make  a  success  in  life.  He  had  been  tutor  to 
a  young  Asiatic  prince,  and  had  lost  his  positioa  by  a  local 


AHENOBARBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE         66 

revolution;  then  he  had  drifted  to  Alexandria,  and  finally 
Rome,  where  he  had  struggled  first  to  teach  philosophy,  and 
found  no  pi  Us  to  listen  to  his  lectures ;  then  to  conduct  au 
elementary  school,  but  his  scholars'  parents  were  backward  in 
paying  even  the  modest  fees  he  charged.  Finally,  in  sheer 
despair,  to  keep  from  starving,  he  accepted  the  position  as 
Valeria's  "  house-philosopher." 

His  condition  was  infinitely  unsatisfactory  for  a  variety  of 
reasons.    The  good  lady  wished  him  to  be  at  her  elbow,  ready 
to  read  from  the  philosophers  or  have  on  hand  a  talk  on  ethics 
or  metaphysics  to  deliver  extempore.    Besides,  though  not  a 
slave  or  freedman,  he  fared  in  the  household  much  worse 
sometimes  than  they.    A  slave  stole  the  dainties,  and  drained 
a  beaker  of  costly  wine  on  the  sly.    Pisander,  like  Thales, 
who  was  so  intent  looking  at  the  stars  that  he  fell  into  a  well, 
''was  so  eager  to  know  what  was  going  on  in  heaven   that 
he  could  not  see  what  was  before  his  feet."  *    And  consequently 
the  poor  pedant  dineil  in  the  remnants  left  after  his  employer 
and  her  hufjbanJ  had  cleared  the  board;  and  had  rancid  oil 
and  sour  wine  given  him,  when  they  enjoyed  the  best.    The 
slaves  had  snubbed  him  and  made  fun  of  him;  the  freedmen 
regarded  him  with  absolute  disdain ;  Valeria's  regular  visitors 
treated  him  as  a  nonentity.     Besides,  all  his  standards  of  ethi- 
cal righteousness  were  outraged  by  the  round  of  life  which  he 
was  compelled  daily  to  witness.     Tlie  worthy  man  would  long 
before  have  ceased  from  a  vassalage  so  disgraceful,  had  he 
possessed  any  other  means  of  supiwrt.     Once  he  meditated 
suicide,  but  was   scared  out  of  it  by  the  thought  that  his 
bones  would  moulder  in  those  huge  pits  on  the  Esquiline  — 
far  from  friend  or  native  land— where  artisans,  slaves,  and 
cattle,  creatures  alike  without  means  of  decent  burial,  were 

1  See  Plato's  "  Theatetua,"  174. 


66 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


left  under  circumstances  unspeakably  revolting  to  moulder 
away  to  dust. 

The  day  of  Agias's  misfortune,  Pisander  sat  in  his  corner  of 
the  boudoir,  after  Valeria  had  left  it,  in  a  very  unphilosophical 
rage,  gnawing  his  beard  and  cursing  inwardly  his  mistress 
Pratinas,  and  the  world  in  general.  ' 

Arsiuoe  with  a  pale,  strained  face  was  moving  about,  replac- 
ing the  bottles  of  cosmetics  and  perfumery  in  cabinets  and 
caskets.  Pisander  had  been  kind  to  Arsinoe,  and  had  taught 
her  to  read;  and  there  was  a  fairly  firm  friendship  between 
the  slave  and  the  luckless  man,  who  felt  himself  degraded  by 
an  equal  bondage. 

"  Poor  Agias,"  muttered  Pisander. 

"Poor  Agias,"  repeated  Arsino«,  mournfully;  then  in  some 
scorn,  "Come,  Master  Pisander,  now  is  the  time  to  console 
yourself  with  your  philosophy.  Call  out  everything, -your 
Zeno,  or  Parmenides,  or  Heraclitus,  or  others  of  the  thousand 
nobodies  I've  heard  you  praise  to  Valeria, -and  make  thereby 
my  heart  a  jot  the  less  sore,  or  Agias's  death  the  less  bitter' 
Don  t  sit  there  and  snap  at  your  beard,  if  your  philosophy  is 
good  for  anything!  People  used  to  pray  to  the  gods  in 
trouble,  but  you  philosophers  turn  the  gods  into  mists  or  thin 
air.  You  are  a  man!  You  are  free!  Do  something!  Say 
something ! "  6        -jr 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  groaned  Pisander,  bursting  into 
tears,  and  wishing  for  the  instant  Epicureans,  Stoics,  Eclectics, 
Peripatetics,  and  every  other  school  of  learning  in  the  nether- 
most Hades. 

-Phui  I  Fudge!"  cried  Arsinoe.  "\Vl.at  is  life  made  for 
then,  If  a  man  who  has  spent  all  his  days  studying  it  is  as 
good  as  helpless!  Look  at  me!  Have  I  not  hands,  feet,  a 
head,  and  wits?    Am  I  not  as  well  Informed  and  naturally 


AHENOBARBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE         67 

capable  as  three  fine  ladies  out  of  every  four  ?  Would  I  not 
look  as  handsome  as  they,  if  I  had  a  chance  to  wear  their 
dresses  and  jewels?  Have  I  any  blemish,  any  defect,  that 
makes  me  cease  to  be  a  woman,  and  become  a  thing  ?  Bah, 
master  Pisander!  I  am  only  a  slave,  but  I  will  talk.  Why 
does  my  blood  boil  at  the  fate  of  Agias,  if  it  was  not  meant  that 
it  should  heat  up  for  some  end  ?  And  yet  I  am  as  much  a 
piece  of  property  of  that  woman  whom  I  hate,  as  this  chair  or 
casket.  I  have  a  right  to  no  hope,  no  ambition,  no  desire, 
no  reward.  I  can  only  aspire  to  live  without  brutal  treat- 
ment. That  would  be  a  sort  of  Elysium.  If  I  was  brave 
enough,  I  would  kiU  myself,  and  go  to  sleep  and  forget  it  all. 
But  I  am  weak  and  cowardly,  and  so  —  here  I  am." 

Pisander  only  groaned  and  went  away  to  his  room  to  turn  over 
his  Aristotle,  and  wonder  why  nothing  in  the  "  Nicomachean 
Ethics  "  or  any  other  learned  treatise  contained  the  least  word 
that  made  him  contented  over  the  fate  of  Agias  or  his  own 
unhappy  situation.    Arsinoe  and  Serairamis,  when  he  went 
from  them,  cried,  and  cried  again,  in  pity  and  helpless  grief 
at  their  whole  situation.    And  so  a  considerable  number  of 
days  passed.    Calatinus  could  have  given  joy  to  the  hearts  of 
several  in  his  household  if  he  had  simply  remembered  that 
Agias  had  not  been  scourged  to  death,  but  sold.     But  Calatinus 
feared,  now  that  he  was  well  out  of  the  matter,  to  stir  up  an 
angry  scene  with  his  wife,  by  hinting  that  Agias  had  not  boen 
punished  according  to  her  orders.    Alfidius,  too,  and  the  other 
slaves  with  him,  imagined  that  his  mistress  would  blame  tlicin 
if  they  admitted  that  Agias  was  alive.    So  the  household 
gathered,  by  the  silence  of  all  concerned,  that  the  bright  Greek 
boy  had  long  since  passed  beyond  power  of  human  torment. 
Pisander  recovered  part  of  his  e(iuanimity,  and  Arsinoe  and 
Semiramis  began  to  see  life  a  shade  less  darkened. 


"ti 


68 


A  FRIEND  OP  C^SAR 


I<UI 


Pratmas  occasionally  repeated  his  morning  calls  upon  Valeria 
He  seemed  much  engrossed  with  business,  but  was  always  the 
same  suave,  elegant,  axjcomplished  personage  that  had  endeared 
him  to  that  lady's  heart.  One  morning  he  came  in,  in  unusu- 
ally good  spirits.  "Congratulate  me,"  he  exclaimed,  after 
saluting  Valeria;  "I  have  disposed  of  a  very  delicate  piece  of 
work,  and  my  mind  can  take  a  little  rest.  At  least  I  have 
roughly  chiselled  out  the  matter,  as  a  sculptor  would  say,  and 
can  now  wait  a  bit  before  finishing  Ah !  what  elegant  study 
IS  this  which  IS  engrossing  your  ladyship  this  morning  ?» 

"Pisander  is  reading  from  the  works  of  Gorgias  of  Leon- 
tini,"  said  Valeria,  languidly. 

"To  be  sure,"  went  on  Pratinas;  "I  have  always  had  the 
greatest  respect  for  the  three  nihilistic  propositions  of  that 
philosopher.  To  read  him  one  is  half  convinced  of  the  affir- 
mation  that  nothing  exists ;  that  if  anything  existed,  the  fact 
could  not  be  known,  and  that  if  the  fact  were  known,  it  could 
not  be  communicated;  although  of  course,  my  dear  madam 
there  are  very  grave  objections  to  accepting  such  views  in  their 
fulness." 

"  Of  course,"  echoed  Valeria.  "  Pisander,  read  Pratinas  that 
little  poem  of  Archilochus,  whose  sentiment  I  so  much  admired, 
when  I  happened  on  it  yesterday." 

Pisander  fumbled  among  his  rolls,  then  read,  perhaps  throw- 
ing  a  bit  of  sarcasm  into  his  tone: 

"  Gyges'J  wealth  and  honours  great 

Coine  mt  nigh  to  me  I 
Heavenly  jow'r,  or  tyrant's  state, 

I'll  not  envy  thee. 
Swift  let  any  sordid  prize 
Fade  and  vanish  from  my  eyes  I " 


AHENOBARBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE        69 

"Your  ladyship,"  said  Pratinas,  appearing  entranced  by  the 
Imes,  "18  ever  in  search  of  the  pearls  of  refined  expression!" 

"I  wish,"  said  Valeria,  whose  mind  ran  from  Gorgiaa  to 
ArchUochus,  and  then  back  to  quite  foreign  matters,  with  light 
mng  rapidity,  "you  would  tell  Kallias,the  sculptor,  that  the 
headHiress  on  my  statue  in  the  atrium  must  be  changed  I 
don't  arrange  my  hair  that  way  any  longer.  He  must  put  on 
a  new  head-dress  without  delay." ' 

«  Certainly,"  assented  the  Greek. 

"And  now,"  said  the  lady,  half  entreating,  half  insinuating, 
"you  must  tell  me  what  has  made  you  so  abstracted  lately 
that  business  you  mentioned,  which  compelled  you  to  restrict 
your  calls." 

"My  dear  Valeria,"  said  Pratinas,  casting  a  glance  over  at 
Pisander  in  his  corner,"!  dislike  mysteries;  but  perhaps 
there  are  some  things  which  I  had  better  not  reveal  to  any 
one.    Dou't  be  offended,  but  — " 

"I  am  offended,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  striking  her  lap  with 
her  hands,  "and  I  accept  no  'buta.'  I  will  be  as  silent  about 
all  your  affairs  as  about  the  mysteries  of  the  Bona  Dea.'" 

"  I  believe  I  can  be  confident  you  will  not  betray  me,"  said 
Pratinaa,  who  in  fact  considered  precautions  that  were  neces- 
sary to  take  among  so  blundering  and  thick-witted  people  as 
the  Latins,  almost  superfluous.  He  muttered  to  himself,  "I 
wouldn't  dare  to  do  this  in  Alexandria,  -  prate  of  a  mur- 
der,—" and  then  glanced  again  toward  Pisander. 

"Pisander,"  said  Valeria,  sharply,  noting  Pratinas's  dis- 
quietude, "go  out  of  the  room.     I  don't  need  you  at  present." 

Pisander,  unlike  many  contemporaries,  was  affected  by  a 
sensitive  conscience.     But  if  there  was  one  man  whom  he  de- 

» Such  alterations  were  actually  made  in  Rome. 
*  To  whoM  myiteriea  only  women  were  admitted. 


70 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


spised  to  the  bottom  of  his  soul,  it  was  Pratinas.    Pratinas 
had  lorded  it  over  him  and  patronized  him,  in  a  way  which 
drove  the  mild-tempered  man  of  learning  to  desperation.    The 
spirit  of  evil  entered  into  the  heart  of  Pisander  as  he  left  the 
room.    The  average  chatter  of  Pratinas  and  Valeria  had  been 
gall  and  wormwood  to  him,  and  he  had  been  glad  enough  to 
evade  it ;  but  here  was  Pratinas  with  a  secret  which  he  clearly 
did  not  wish  Pisander  to  know.    And  Pisander,  prompted 
by  most  unphilosophical  motives,  resolved  within  himself  to 
play  the  eavesdropper.    The  boudoir  was  approached  by  three 
doors,  one  from  the  peristylium,  one  from  Valeria's  private 
sleeping  chamber,  one  from  the  servants'  quarters.    Pisander 
went  out  through  the  firat,  and  going  through  other  rooms  to 
the  third,  took  his  station  by  that  entrance.    He  met  Arsinofi, 
and  took  the  friendly  maid  into  his  plot,  by  stationing  her 
on  guard  to  prevent  the  other  servants  from  interfering  with 
him.     Then  applying  his  ear  to  the  large  keyhole  of  the 
door,  he  could  understand  all  that  was  passing  in  the  boudoir. 
What  Pratinas  was  saying  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  repeat. 
The  Greek  was  relating  with  infinite  zest,  and  to  Valeria's 
intense  delight  and  amusement,  the  story  of  the  two  wills 
which  placed  Drusus's  ostate  and  the  hand  of  Cornelia  within 
reach  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus;  of  the  manner  in  which  this 
last  young  man  had  lieen  induced  to  take  steps  to  make  way 
with  an  unfort    lat.    i    .*].     Finah,.  la  a  low,  half-audible 
tone,  he  told  of  the  i)rovisional  airui  i,'ements  with  Dumnorix, 
and  how  very  soon  the  plan  was  to  be  put  in  execution. 

"  And  yuu  must  be  sure  and  tell  me,"  cried  Valeria,  clapping 
her  hands  wh.  m  Pratinas  concluded,  "  what  the  details  of  the 
affair  all  are,  and  when  and  how  you  succeed.  Poor  Quintus 
Dru.sus !  I  am  really  sorry  for  him.  But  when  one  doesn't 
make  use  of  what  Fortune  has  given  him,  there  is  nothing 
else  to  do !  " 


AHENOBARBUS  AIRS  HIS  GRIEVANCE        71 

"  Yes,"  said  Pratinas,  sententiously.  «  He  who  fails  to  real- 
ize what  18  for  him  the  highest  good,  forfeits,  thereby,  the  right 
to  life  itself,"  * 

Pisander  slipped  away  from  the  keyhole,  with  a  white 
face,  and  panting  for  breath.  Briefly,  he  repeated  what  he 
had  gathered  to  Arsinoe,  then  blurted  out:  — 

"I  will  go  in  and  meet  that  well-oiled  villain  face  to  face 
By  Zeus !  I  will  make  him  feel  the  depths  of  an  honest  man's 
scorn  and  indignation ! " 

"You  will  be  a  fool,"  replied  Arsino«,  quietly,  "if  you  do. 
Valeria  would  instantly  dismiss  you  from  her  service." 
« I  will  go  at  once  to  Drusus,"  asserted  Pisander. 
"Drusus  may  or  may  not  be  convinced  that  what  you  say  is 
true,"  answered  the  girl ;  "but  he,  I  gather  from  what  you  re- 
peat,  has  just  gone  back  to  Praeneste.  Before  you  could  reach 
Praeneste,  you  are  a  dead  man." 

"How  so ? "  demanded  the  excited  philosopher,  brandishing 
his  hats.     "I  am  as  strong  as  Pratinas." 

"How  little  wisdom,"  commented  Ar8ino6,«you  do  gather 
from  your  books !  Can't  you  see  Pratina.s  is  a  reckless  scoun- 
drel-with  every  gladiator  in  Dumnorix's  school  at  his  call  if 
needs  be- who  would  stop  at  nothing  to  silence  promptly  the 
mouth  of  a  dangerous  witness?  This  isn't  worse  than  many 
another  case.  Don't  share  the  ruin  of  a  man  who  is  an  utter 
stranger !    We  have  troubles  enough  of  our  own." 

And  with  this  consolation  Arsinoe  left  him,  again  consumed 
with  impotent  rage. 

"Villain,"  fumed  Pisander  to  himself,  "if  I  could  only 
place  my  fingers  round  your  neck!  But  what  can  I  do^ 
U  hat  can  I  do  ?  I  am  helpless,  friendless,  penniless !  And  I 
can  only  tear  out  my  heart,  and  pretend  to  play  the  philoso- 
pher. T,  a  philosopher !  If  I  were  a  true  one.  I  would  have 
had  the  courage  to  kill  myself  before  this." 


72 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


And  in  this  mental  state  he  continued,  till  he  learned  that 
Pratinas  had  taken  bis  fareweU,  and  that  Calatinus  wished 
him  — since  all  the  slaves  seemed  busy,  and  the  ixwr  house 
philosopher  was  often  sent  on  menial  errands  — to  goto  tht 
Fbrum  Boarium,^  and  bring  back  some  ribs  of  beei  for  a  din. 
ner  that  evening.     Pisander  went  as  bidden,  tugging  a  large 
basket,  and  trying  to  muster  up  courage  to  continue  his  walk 
to  the  Fabrician  Bridge,  and  plunge  into  the  Tiber.     In  classic 
days  suicide  was  a  commendable  act  under  a  great  many  cir- 
cumstances, and  Pisander  was  perfectly  serious  and  sincere 
in  his  belief  that  he  and  the  world  had  been  companions  too 
long  for  the  good  of  either.    But  the  jar  and  din  of  the  streets 
certainly  served  to  make  connected  philosophical  meditation 
upon  the  futility  and  unimportance  of  human  existence  decid- 
edly unfruitful.     By  the  time  he  reached  the  cattle-market  the 
noise  of  this  strange  place  drove  all  suicidal  intentions  from 
him.     Butchers  were  slaughtering  kine ;  drovers  were  driving 
oxen  off  of  barges  that  had  come  down  the  Tiber;  sheep  and 
goats  were  bleating— everywhere  around  the  stalls,  booths, 
shops,  and  pens  was  the  bustle  of  an  enormous  traffic.     Pisan- 
der picked  his   way  through  the  crowd,  searching  for  the 
butcher  to  whom  he  had  been  especially  sent.     He  had  gone  as 
far  as  the  ancient  shrine  of  Mater  Matuta,  which  found  place 
in  these  seemingly  unhallowed  precincts,  when,  as  he  gazed 
into  the  throng  before  him,  his  hair  stood  as  it  were  on  end, 
his  voice  choked  iu  his  throat,  and  cold  sweat  broke  out  over 
him.     The  next  moment  his  hand  was  seized  by  another,  young 
and  hearty,  and  he  was  gasping  forth  the  name  of  Agiaa. 

^  Cattle-market. 


Ill 


CHAPTER  V 


A   VERY   OLD   PEOBLEM 


DRU8U8  had  at  last  finished  the  business  which  centred 
around  the  death  of  his  ancle,  old  Publius  Vibulanus.  He 
had  walked  behind  the  bier,  in  company  with  the  other  relor 
tives  of  the  deceased— all  very  distant,  saving  himself.  On 
the  day,  too,  of  the  funeral,  he  had  been  obliged  to  make  his 
first  public  oration— a  eulogy  delivered  in  the  Forum  from 
the  Rostra  —  in  which  Drusus  tried  to  pay  a  graceful  but  not 
fulsome  tribute  to  the  old  eques,  who  hatl  never  distinguished 
himself  in  anyway,  except  the  making  of  money.  The  many 
clients  of  Vibulanus,  who  now  looked  upon  the  young  man  as 
their  patron,  had  raised  a  prodigious  din  of  applause  during 
the  oiation,  and  Quintus  was  flattered  to  fee)  that  he  had  not 
studied  rhetoric  in  vain.  Finally,  as  next  of  kin,  he  had  to 
apply  the  torch  to  the  funeral  pyre,  and  preside  over  the 
funeral  feast,  held  by  custom  nine  days  after  the  actual 
burning,  and  over  the  contests  of  gladiators  which  took  place 
at  this  festivity.  Meanwhile  Sextus  Flaccus  had  been  attend- 
ing to  the  legal  business  connected  with  the  transfer  of  the 
dead  man's  estate  to  his  hetr.  All  this  took  time  —  time  which 
Drusus  longed  to  be  spending  with  Cornelia  in  shady  and 
breezy  Traeneste,  miles  from  unhealthy,  half-parched  Rome. 

Drusus  had  sent  Agias  ahead  to  Cornelia,  as  soon  as  the  poor 

78 


MiaiOCOPV   RESOLUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No,  2) 


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74 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


.  ,j 


boy  had  recovered  in  the  least  from  his  brutal  scourging.  The 
lad  had  parted  from  his  deliverer  with  the  most  extravagant 
demonstrations  of  gratitude,  which  Quintus  had  said  he  could 
fully  repay  by  implicit  devotion  to  Cornelia.  How  that  young 
lady  had  been  pleased  with  her  present,  J  nusus  could  not  tell ; 
although  he  had  sent  along  a  letter  explaining  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case.  But  Quintus  had  other  things  on  his 
mind  than  Agias  and  his  fortunes,  on  the  morning  when  at  last 
he  turned  his  face  away  from  the  sultry  capital,  and  found  his 
carriage  whirling  him  once  more  over  the  Campagna. 

Drusus  had  by  personal  experience  learned  the  bitterness  of 
the  political  struggle  in  which  he  had  elected  to  take  part. 
The  Caesarians  at  Rome  (Ualbus,  Antonius,  and  Curio)  had  wel- 
comed him  to  their  nun.ber,  for  young  as  he  was,  his  wealth 
and  the  prestige  of  the  Livian  name  were  not  to  be  despised. 
And  Drusus   saw  how,  as  in  his  younger  days  he  had  not 
realized,  the  whole  fabric  of  the  state  was  in  an  evil  way,  and 
rapidly   approaching   its   mending  or  ending.      The   Roman 
Republic  had  exported  legions ;  she  had  importcnl  slaves,  who 
heaped  up  vast  riches  for  their  masters,  while  their  competition 
reduced  the  free  peasantry  to  starvation.     And  now  a  splendid 
aristocracy  claimed  to  rule  a  subject  world,  while  the  "  Roman 
people  "  that  had  conquered  that  world  were  a  degenerate  mob, 
whose  suffrages  in   the   elections   were  purchasable  —  almost 
openly  —  by  the  highest  bidder.     The  way  was  not  clear  before 
Drusus ;  he  only  saw,   with  his  blind.  Pagan  vision,  that  no 
real  liberty  existed  under  present  conditions ;  that  Pompeius 
and  his  allies,  the  Senate  party,  were  trying  to  perpetuate  the 
Aristocracy  in  power,  and  that  Ciesar,  the  absent  proconsul  of 
the  Gauls,  stood,  at  least,  for  a  sweeping  reform.     And  so  the 
young  man  made  his  decision  and  waited  the  jnarch  of  events. 
But  ouce  at  Praeneste  all  these  forebodings  were  thrust  into 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


75 


the  background.  The  builders  and  frescoers  had  done  their 
work  well  in  his  villa.  A  new  colonnade  was  being  erected. 
Coloured  mosaic  floors  were  being  laid.  The  walls  of  the  rooms 
were  all  a-tlance  -.vitli  bright  Cupids  and  Bacchantes  —  cheerful 
apartments  for  their  prospective  mistress.  But  it  was  over 
to  the  country-house  of  the  Lentuli  that  Drusus  made  small 
delay  to  hasten,  there  to  be  in  bliss  in  company  with  Cornelia. 
«  And  how,"  he  asked,  after  the  young  lady  had  talked  of  a 
dozen  innocent  nothings,  "  do  you  like  Agias,  the  boy  I  sent 

you?" 

« I  can  never  thank  you  enough  — at  least  if  he  is  always  as 
clever  and  witty  as  he  has  been  since  I  have  had  him,"  was 
the  reply.  "I  was  vexed  at  first  to  have  a  servant  with  such 
dreadful  scars  all  over  him;  but  he  is  i.^ore  presentable  now. 
And  he  has  a  very  droll  way  of  saying  bright  things.  What 
fun  he  has  made  of  Livia's  dear  mother,  his  former  mistress ! 
I  shall  have  to  give  up  reading  any  wise  authors,  if  it  will 
make  me  grow  like  Valeria.  Then,  too,  Agias  has  won  my 
favour,  if  in  no  other  way,  by  getting  a  thick  grass  stem  out  of 
the  throat  of  my  dear  little  pet  sparrow,  that  was  almost  chok- 
ing to  death.    I  am  so  grateful  to  you  for  him ! " 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  are  fond  of  hiin,"  said  Drusus.     "  Has 
your  uncle  come  back  from  Rome  yet  ?     I  did  not  meet  him 

while  there.     I  was  busy ;  and  besides,  to  speak  honestly,  I 

have  a  little  hesitation  in  seeing  him,  since  the  political 

situation  is  so  tense." 

"He  returns  to-night,  I  believe,"  replied  Cornelia.     Then 

as  if  a  bit  apprehensive,  "Tell  me  about  the  world,  Drusus; 

I  don't  care  to  be  one  of  those  tine  ladies  of  the  sort  of  Clodia,' 

who  are  all  in  the  whirl  of  i)olitics,  and  do  everything  a  man 
1  She  was  a  sister  of  Clodius,  a  famous  demagogue,  and  wa8  a  brllUanl 

tbougli  abaudoned  womau. 


k 


76 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


^mg  on.  The™  »„-»  going  to  be  a  riot,  I  hope,  a.  there  was 
two  years  ago,  when  no  consuls  were  elected,  and  Pompeius  had 
to  become  sole  magistrate  ?  " 

"There  have  been  no  tumults  so  far,"  said  Drusus,  wJo  did 
not  care  to  unfold  all  his  fears  and  expectations 
^"  Yet  things  are  in  a  very  bad  way,  I  hear,"  said  Cornelia 
^^an  t  Caesar  and  my  uncle's  party  agree  ^  " 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  replied  Drusus,  shaking  his  head.  "C^sar 
wishes  to  be  consul  a  second  time.  Pompeius  and  he  were 
friends  when  at  Lucca  six  y.ars  ago  th: s  was  agreed  on.    C^sar 

ship  up  to  the  hour  when  he  should  be  consul,  and  besides 
Pompo.us  promised  to  have  permission  granted  C.sar  to  be 
e  ected  consul,  without  appearing  as  a  candidate  in  Some  •  so 
a    no  moment  was  Caesar  to  be  without  office,^   and   co;,se- 
quently  he  was  not  to  be  liable  to  prosecution  from  his  enemies 
All  this  was  secured  to  Caesar  by  the    laws, -laws  which 
Pompeius  aided  to  have  enacted.     But  now  Crassus  the  third 
triumvir  is  dead ;  Julia,  Cesar's  daughter  an,l  Pompeius's  wite 
whom  both  dearly  loved,  is  dead.     And  Pompeii!^  has  b    n 
persuaded  by  your  uncle  and  his  friends  to  break  with  C.sar 
and  repudiate  his  promise.     C.sar  and  Pompeius  have  long 
been  so  powerful  together  that  none  could  shake  their  author' 
ity,    but  If  one  falls  away  and  comL.nes  with  the  common 
enemy,  what  but  trouble  is  to  be  expected  9  » 

"The  enemy!  the  enemy!"  repeated  Cornelia,  looking  down 
and  sighing.   "Quintus,  these  feuds  are  a  dreadful  thing    Can't 
you,"  and  here  she  threw  a  bit  of  pathetic  entreaty  fnto  her 
voice,  "join  with  my  uncle's  party,  and  be  hi.       endV   I  hate 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


77 


to  think  of  having  my  husband  at  variance  with  the  man  who 
stands  in  place  of  my  father." 

Drusus  took  her  face  between  his  hands,  and  looked  straight 
at  her.  They  were  standing  within  the  colonnade  of  the  villa 
of  the  Lentuli,  and  the  sunlight  streaming  between  the  pillars 
fell  directly  upon  Cornelia's  troubled  face,  and  made  a  sort  of 
halo  around  her. 

"  My  dearest,  delectissima,"  said  Quintus,  earnestly, « I  could 
not  honourably  take  your  hand  in  marriage,  if  I  had  not  done 
that  which  my  conscience,  if  not  my  reason,  tells  me  is  the  only 
right  thing  to  do.  It  grieves  me  to  hurt  you ;  but  we  are  not 
fickle  Greeks,  nor  servile  Easterns ;  but  Romans  born  to  rule, 
and  because  born  to  rule,  born  to  count  nothing  dear  that  will 
tend  to  advance  the  strength  and  prosperity  not  of  self,  but  of 
the  state.  You  would  not  love  me  if  I  said  I  cared  more  for 
keeping  a  pang  from  your  dear  heart,  than  for  the  performance 
of  that  which  our  ancestors  counted  the  one  end  of  life  —  duty 
to  the  commonwealth." 

Cornelia  threw  her  arms  around  him. 

"You  are  the  noblest  man  on  the  whole  earth!"  she  cried 
with  bright  enthusiasm.  "  Of  course  I  would  not  love  you  if 
you  did  what  you  believed  to  be  wrong !  My  uncle  may  scoid, 
may  storm.  I  shan't  care  for  all  his  anger,  for  you  must  be 
right." 

"Ah!  delectissima,"  cried  Drusus,  feeling  at  the  moment  as 
if  he  were  capable  of  refuting  senates  and  confounding  kings, 
"  we  will  not  look  at  too  gloomy  a  side  of  the  picture.  Pom- 
peius  and  Caesar  will  be  reconciled.  Your  uncle's  party  will 
see  that  it  is  best  to  allow  the  proconsul  an  election  as 
promised.  We  will  have  wise  laws  and  moderate  reforms. 
All  will  come  out  aright.  And  wo  —  wo  two  —  will  go  along 
through  life  as  softly  and  as  merrily  as  n  aw  we  stroll  up  and 


78 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


II 


^ 


down  in  the  cool  shade  of  these  <  olumns ;  and  I  will  turn  phi- 
losopher  and  evolve  a  new  system  that  will  forever  send  Plato 
and  Zeno,  Epicurus  and  Timon,  to  the  most  remote  and  spider- 
spun  cupboard  of  the  most  old-fashioned  library,  and  you  shall 
be  a  poetess,  Suppho,  an  Erinna,  who  shall  tinkle  in  Latin 
metres  sweeter  than  they  ever  sing  in  Aiolic.  And  so  we  will 
fleet  the  time  as  though  wn  were  Zeus  and  Hera  on  Olympus." 

"Zeus  and  Hera!"  repeated  Cornelia,  laughing.  "You  silly 
Graecule.*  You  may  talk  about  that  misbehaved  pair,  who 
were  anything  but  harmonious  and  loving,  if  Homer  tells  truly. 
I  prefer  our  own  Juppiter  and  our  Juno  of  the  Aventine.  They 
are  a  staid  and  home-keeping  couple,  worth  imitating,  if  we  are 
to  imitate  any  celestials.     But  nothing  Greek  for  me." 

"  Intolerant,  intolerant,"  retorted  Drusus,  "  we  are  all  Greek, 
we  Romans  of  to-day  —  what  is  left  nf  old  Latium  but  her  half- 
discarded  language,  her  laws  worse  than  discarded,  perverted, 
her  good  pilum*  which  has  not  quite  lost  its  cunning,  and 
her  —  " 

«  Men,"  interrupted  Cornelia,  "  such  as  you ! " 
"And  women,"  continued  Drusus,  "such  as  you!  Ah! 
There  is  something  left  of  Rome  after  all.  We  are  not  alto- 
gether fallen,  unworthy  of  our  ancestors.  Why  shall  we  not  be 
merry  ?  A  Greek  would  say  that  it  was  always  darkest  before 
Eos  leaves  the  couch  of  Tithonus,'  and  who  knows  that  our 
Helios  is  not  soon  to  dawn  and  be  a  long,  long  time  ere  his 
setting  ?  I  feel  like  throwing  formality  to  the  winds,  crying 
'  lacchos  evo6,'  and  dancing  like  a  bacchanal,  and  singing  in 
tipsy  delight,  — 

1  Contemptuous  diminutive  for  Greek. 

^  Tlie  heavy  short  javelin  carried  by  the  Roman  legionary,  only  about  six 
feet  long.  In  practised  hands  it  was  a  terrible  weapon,  and  won  many  a 
Roman  victory. 

"  The  "  rosy-fingered  Dawn  "  of  Homer ;  Tithonos  was  her  consort. 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


79 


»• '  Oh,  when  through  the  long  night, 

With  fleet  foot  glancing  white, 
Shall  I  go  dancing  in  my  revelry, 

My  neck  cast  back,  and  bare 

Unto  the  dewy  air, 
Like  sportive  faun  in  the  green  meadow's  glee  ? '  ^ 

as  old  Euripides  sings  in  his  Baxjchae.'  Yes,  the  Hellenes 
were  right  when  they  put  nymphs  in  the  forest  and  in  the 
deep.  Only  our  blind  practical  Latin  eyes  will  not  see  them. 
We  will  forget  that  we  are  Romans ;  we  will  build  for  ourselves 
some  cosey  little  Phseacia  up  in  the  Sabine  hills  beside  some 
lake;  and  there  my  Sappho  shall  also  be  my  Nausicaa  to 
shine  fair  as  a  goddess  upon  her  distres.sed  and  shipwrecked 
Odysseus." 

"Yes,"  said  Cornelia,  smiling,  "a  delightfiU  idyl;  but 
Odysseus  would  not  stay  with  Nausicaa." 

"I  was  wvong,"  replied  Drubiis,  as  they  walked  arm  in 
arm  out  from  the  portico,  and  down  the  broad  avenue  of 
stately  shade  trees.  "  You  shall  be  the  faithful  Penelope,  who 
receives  back  her  lord  in  happiness  after  many  trials  Your 
clever  Agias  can  act  as  Telemachus  for  uu. 

"  But  the  suitors  whom  Odysse'  "  must  slay  ?  "  asked  Cor- 
nelia, entering  into  the  fun. 

"  Oh,  for  them,"  said  Drusus,  lightly,  "  we  need  not  search 
far.    Who  other  than  Ahenobarbus  ?  " 


n 

Rather  late  in  the  afternoon,  a  few  c'ays  subsequently,  the 
most  noble  Lucius  vJornelhis  Lentulus  Crus,  consul-designate, 
and  one  of  the  most  prominent  politicians  of  his  time  and 
nation,  arrived  at  Prseneste ;  having  hurried  away  from  Rome 

^Miliuan,  translator. 


80 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


to  escape  for  a  little  while  the  summer  heats  which  made  the 
capital  anything  but  a  pleasant  place  for  residence.    Drusus's 
travelling  cortege  would  have  seemed  small  enough  compared 
with  the  hedge  of  outriders,  footmen,  and  body-servants  that 
surrounded  the  great  man.     But  notwithstanding  his  prospeo- 
tive  dignities,  and  his  present  importance,  Lentulus  Cms  was 
hardly  an  imposing  personality.    He  was  a  bald-pated,  florid 
individual,  with  rough  features,  a  low,  flat  forehead,  and  coarse 
hps.     He  was  dressed  very  fashionably,  and  was  perfumed 
and  beringed  to  an  extent  that  would  have  been  derided  any- 
where save  in  the  most  select  circles  of  Rome.    H.^  was  stout, 
and  when  he  alighted  from  his  carriage,  he  moved  away  with 
a  somewhat  waddling  gait,  and  lifted  up  a  rasping,  high- 
pitched  voice  in  unsonorous  complaint  against  a  slave  who  let 
fall  a  parcel  of  baggage. 

Clearly  the  master  of  the  house  had  returned,  and  all  the 
familia  and  freedmen  bustled  about  their  various  tasks  with 
the  unusual  promptitude  and  diligence  which  is  the  outcome 
of  a  healthy  fear  of  retribution  for  slackness.    Lentulus  went 
into  the  atrium,  and  there  had  an  angry  conference  wi^  , 
local  land-steward,  over  some  accounts  which  the  lattc- 
sented.    In  fact,  so  ill  was  the  humour  of  the  noble  lore    •  ■ 
Cornelia  avoided  going  out  from  her  room  to  meet  him,  and 
pretended  to  be  so  engrossed  in  her  Ennius  that  she  did  not 
hear  he  had  come. 

This  pretence,  however,  could  not  last  long.  Lentulus  called 
out  in  a  surly  tone  to  know  where  his  niece  was,  and  the  latter 
was  fain  to  present  herself.  It  could  not  be  said  that  the 
meeting  between  Cornelia  and  her  uncle  was  extremely  affec- 
tionate.   The  interchange  of  kisses  was  painfully  formal,  and 

then  Lentulus  demanded  somewhat  abruptly  : 

"How  have  you  been  spending  your  time?  With  that 
youniT  ne'er-do-weel  son  of  Sextus  Drusus?" 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


81 


"  Quintus  was  here  this  morning,"  said  Cornelia,  feeling  a 
little  reproachful  at  the  manner  in  which  her  uncle  had  spoken 
of  her  lover. 

"  Just  back  from  Rome,  I  presume  ?  "  said  Lentulus,  icily, 
"  and  he  must  fly  over  to  the  cote  of  his  little  dove  and  see 
that  she  hasn't  flitted  away  ?  He'd  better  have  a  care  in  his 
doings.  Hp'U  have  something  more  serious  on  hand  than  love- 
making  before  long." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  uncle,"  said  Cornelia,  turning 
rather  red ;  "  Quintus  has  never  done  anything  for  which  he 
has  cause  to  fear." 

"  Oh,  he  hasn't,  eh  ?  "  retorted  Lentulus.  "  Mehercle  1 
what  donkeys  you  women  are !  You  may  go,  I  want  to  see 
your  mother." 

"She  is  in  her  own  room,"  said  Cornelia,  turning  her 
back;  "I  wish  you  would  not  speak  to  me  in  that  way 
again." 

Lentulus  wandered  through  the  mazes  of  <  "ts,  colonnades, 
and  the  magnificently  decorated  and  finished  rooms  of  the 
villa,  until  he  came  to  the  chamber  of  Claudia,  his  sister-in- 
law.  Claudia  was  a  woman  of  the  same  fashionable  type  as 
Valeria,  good-looking,  ostentatious,  proud,  selfish,  devoid  of 
any  aim  in  life  save  the  securing  of  the  most  vapid  pleasure. 
At  the  moment,  she  was  stretched  out  on  a  thickly  cushioned 
couch.  She  had  thrown  on  a  loose  dress  of  silken  texture. 
A  negress  was  waving  over  her  head  a  huge  fan  of  long  white 
feathers.  A  second  negress  was  busy  mixing  in  an  Authepsa, 
—  a  sort  of  silver  urn,  heated  by  charcoal,  —  a  quantity 
of  spices,  herbs,  and  water,  which  the  lady  was  to  take  as 
soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  steeped.  Claudia  had  been  en- 
joying an  unusually  gay  round  of  excitement  while  at  Baiae, 
and  she  had  but  just  come  up  to  Prseneste,  to  recover  herself 


82 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


after  the  exertions  of  a  score  of  fashionable  suppers,  excur- 
sions  on  the  Lucrine  Lake,  and  the  attendant  exhausting 
amusements.  When  her  brother-in-law  entered  the  room,  she 
raised  lier  carefully  tinted  eyebrows,  and  observed  with  great 
languor :  — 

"  So  you  have  gotten  away  from  Rome,  at  last,  my  Lucius  ^  » 
"For  a  few  days,"  replied  Lentulus,  in  no  very  affable  tone- 
"the  heat  and  din  of  the  city  will  drive  me  mad!  And  I 
have  had  no  end  of  troublesome  business.  The  senators 
are  all  fools  or  slaves  of  Caesar.  That  treacherous  rascal. 
Curio,  IS  blocking  all  our  efforts.  Even  Pompeius  is  half- 
hearted in  the  cause.  It  ^vouldn't  take  much  to  make  him  go 
back  to  Caesar,  an ^  then  vheie  would  we  be  ?" 

"Where  would  we  be?"  said  Claudia,  half  conscious  of 
what  she  said,  turning  over  weaiily.  "  Don't  talk  politics,  my 
dear  brother.  They  are  distressingly  dull.  My  head  aches 
at  the  very  word."  And  she  held  out  her  hand  and  took 
the  golden  cup  of  hot  drink  which  the  negress  offered  her 
"Aye,"  replied  Lentulus,  not  in  the  least  subdued,  "where 
will  we  bp,  if  Pompeius  and  Caesar  become  ^-iends?  If  there 
is  no  war,  no  proscription,  no  chance  to  make  a  sesterce  in  a 
hurry ! " 

"My  dear  brother,"  said  Claudia,  still  more  languidly,  and 
yawning  at  length,  as  she  handed  back  the  cup,  "have  I  not 
said  that  the  mere  mention  of  politics  makes  my  head 
ache  ?  "  '' 

"Then  let  it,"  said  the  other,  brutally;  "I  must  have  some 
plain  words  with  you."     And  he  pointed  toward  the  door 
The  two  serving-maids  took  the  hint,  and  retired. 

Claudia  settled  her  head  back  on  the  pillows,  and  folded 
her  hands  as  if  to  resign  herself  to  a  very  dull  tete-^ete. 

"  Have  you  any  new  debts  ?  »  demar.ded  Lentulus. 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


83 


"What  a  tiresome  question,"  murmured  the  lady.  "No  — 
no  —  yes;  I  owe  Pomponius  the  fancier  —  I  don't  quite  know 
how  much  —  for  my  last  Maltese  lap  dog." 

"  Th  jik  the  gods  that  is  all,"  we.it  on  her  brother-in-law. 
"Now  listen  to  me.  I  have  been  living  beyond  my  means. 
Last  year  the  canvass  to  get  on  the  board  of  guardians  of  the 
Sibylline  Books  —  in  which  that  graceless  son-in-law  of  Cicero's, 
Publius  Dolabella,  defeated  me  —  cost  a  deal  of  money.  This 
year  I  have  the  consulship.  But  it  has  taken  every  denarius  I 
own,  and  more  too.  All  my  estates  are  involved,  so  that  it  will 
require  years  to  redeem  them,  in  the  ordinary  way." 

"How  extremely  unfortunate!"  sighed  Claudia,  looking 
dreadfully  bored. 

"  If  that  was  all  I  had  to  tell  you,"  snapped  back  Lentulus, 
"  I  would  not  have  disturbed  your  ladyship's  repose.  But  you 
must  be  so  indulgent  as  to  listen." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Claudia,  yawning  again  and  settling  herself. 
"  Your  late  husband  left  some  little  property,"  began  the 
other. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure ;  oh !  my  poor  Caius ! "  and  Claudia  began 
to  sob  and  wipe  away  the  tears. 

"  And  this  property  I  have  involved,"  continued  Lentulus, 
driving  straight  ahead  and  never  heeding  the  w'dow's  display 
of  emotions.  "  It  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  clear  away  the 
enoimbrances  for  some  little  time." 

Claudia  was  excited  now.  She  sprang  up  from  her  cushions 
and  cried,  or  rather  screamed :  — 

"  Brute !  Robber  of  orphans  and  widows !  Heartless  wretch  ! 
Have  you  pledged  the  slender  fortime  Caius  left  me,  and  the 
dowry  o'^  my  poor  dear  Cornelia?"  And  her  voice  sank  into 
hoarseness,  and  she  began  to  sob  once  naore. 

Lentulus  regarded  her  with  vexation  and  contempt.     "  MeheV' 


84 


A  FRIEFD  OF  CiESAR 


de.  what  a  f    3  you  are  making!    The  deed  is  done,  and 

lrr?l'T'     '  ''"'  '"^'  "^'  *°  °ff-  -«"-«'  but  to 
state  he  facts.    You  may  call  me  what  you  please ;  I  had  to  do 

tt,  or  lose  the  consulship.    Now  look  the  matter  in  the  face 
You  must  contract  no  more  debts;  I  can't  discharge  the  old 
ones.    Live  as  reasonably  as  you  can." 

"And  no  more  nice  dinners?    No  more  visits  to  Bai«^» 
groaned  the  lady,  rocking  to  and  fro. 

"Yes,  ves,"  broke  in  her  brother-in-law,  sharply,  «i  can 
still  raise  enough  to  meet  all  ordinary  expenses.  If  I  let  down 
in  my  household,  my  creditors  would  see  I  was  pinched,  and 
begin  to  pluck  me.  I  can  weather  the  storm.  But  look  here  • 
Corneha  must  have  an  end  with  that  young  Drusus.  I  can 
never  pay  her  dowry,  and  would  not  have  him  for  a  nephew-in- 
law  if  I  could." 

"Cornelia  break  off  with  Drusus?"  and  Claudia  stopped 
whimpering,  and  sat  staring  at  Lentulus  with  astonished  eyes. 
!^  t'l"  'T^  f '  ^'^  ''^"^^  ^'^^^  '^'  y^^^S  Livian,  and 
maTch  ""^  ^''*'°''^  ^''"  ^  """'^  advantageous 

"Certainly,  my  dear  Claudia,"  said  the  consul-elect,  half 
relieved  to  change  what  had  been  a  very  awkward  subject-  «I 
can  assure  you  that  Quintus  is  far  from  being  a  proper 'and 
worthy  man  for  a  husband  for  your  daughter.    I  have  heard 
very  evU  reports  of  him  while  in  the  city.    He  has  cast  in  his 
lot  with  flat  gang  of  knavish  Caesarians  centring  around  Mar- 
cuo  Au..  .xas,  Caelius,  and  that  Caius  Sallustius » whom  our  excel- 
lent censors  have  just  ejected  from  the  Senate,  because  of  his 
evil  hving  and  C^sarian  tendencies.    Do  I  need  to  say  more 
of  him  ?    A  worthless,  abandoned,  shameless  profligate ' » 
Claudia  had  a  little  sense  of  humour ;  and  when  Lentulus  was 
» SaUtut,  the  well-known  hlstcrltn. 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


86 


working  himself  up  into  a  righteous  rage  over  the  alleged  mis- 
doings of  Drusus,  she  interrupted :  — 

"You  do  well  to  say  so,  my  dear  Lucius;  for  all  men  know 
that  your  life  is  as  morally  severe  as  your  good  friend  Cato's." 

Lentulus  was  silent  foi  a  moment,  and  bit  his  lip;  then 
recommenced :  — 

"  What  I  meant  to  sa;  ,vas  this.  Quintus  Drro-  ^nd  I  are 
enemies  ;  and  I  will  not  give  him  my  niece  in  m"^  ■-.■,  ,  ^.  If  we 
were  friends,  I  would  not  be  able  to  pay  the  do>'  ^  .  You  can 
complain  if  you  please;  but  you  caa't  alter  ray  inclinations  or 
my  inability  to  carry  out  the  marriage  agreement." 

Though  Claudia  in  many  respects  was  an  empty  woman  of 
the  world,  she  had  in  a  way  a  lesire  to  promote  her  daughter's 
happiness,  and,  as  has  been  said,  she  had  been  extremely  fond 
of  Drusus.  So  she  replied  diplomatically  that  Quintus  was 
probably  willing  to  wait  a  reasonable  time  for  the  dowry  ;  and 
that  even  if  he  had  held  communication  with  the  Caesarians, 
he  was  little  more  than  a  boy  and  could  be  shaken  out  of  any 
unfortunate  polit.  -^l  opinions. 

"  I  will  be  reasonable."  saic  '  .entulus,  af  i-er  pacing  up  and 
down  for  a  few  minntts.  "I  was  told  of  his  folly  by  Cains 
Calvus.*  Calvus  is  as  a  rule  accurate  in  his  information.  He 
said  he  met  <>i.isu3  in  »  jnipany  with  Balbus  and  Curio.  But 
there  may  hav<j  been  some  mistake.  And  the  lad,  as  you  de- 
clare, may  be  willing  to  cut  loose  from  a  batl  course.  If  he 
really  cares  for  Cornelia,  he  will  be  moderate  in  his  demands 
for  the  dowry.  Your  suggestion  is  worth  taking,  Claudia.  Let 
us  send  for  him,  and  let  him  know  the  only  terms  on  which  he 
can  have  my  niece." 

Lentulus  clapped  his  hands,  and  a  serving-boy  came  in  for 
orders. 

1  A  distingiiishe    poet  and  orator  — a  friend  of  Catullus. 


M 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


"  Go  to  the  villa  of  Quinhis  Drusus,"  commanded  the  master, 
"and  tell  him  that  I  would  see  him  at  once  on  business  of 
weight." 

Claudia  arose,  and  let  her  maids  throw  over  her  a  long 
white  stola,"^  with  deep  flounces  and  an  elaborate  embroidery 
of  sea-nymphs  and  marine  monsters.  Lentulus  went  out  into 
the  atrium  and  walked  up  and  down,  biting  his  nails,  and 
trying  to  think  out  the  arguments  1  y  which  he  would  confute 
the  political  heresies  of  Drusus.  Lentulus  was  too  good  a 
politician  not  to  know  that  the  young  man  would  be  a  valu- 
able catch  for  the  party  that  secured  him ;  and  the  consul-elect 
was  determined,  not  so  much  to  spare  breaking  the  heart  of 
his  niece,  but  to  rob  the  enemy  of  a  valuable  adherent.  Cor- 
nelia had  gone  back  to  her  book;  but  when  she  saw  the 
boy  go  down  the  path,  evidently  on  an  firand  to  the  villa 
of  the  Drusi,  she  rolled  up  the  volume,  and  went  into  the 
atrium. 

"  You  have  sent  after  Quintus,  uncle  ?  "  she  asked. 
"I  have,"  was  the  reply ;  "I  expect  him  shortly." 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  continued  Cornelia,  growing  appre- 
hensive. 

"I  wish  to  make  the  arrangements  for  your  wedding," 
replied  Lentulus,  continuing  his  pacing  to  and  fro. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad!"  cried  Cornelia,  cheerily.  «I  am  so 
pleased  you  wish  to  make  everything  agreeable  for  Quintus 
and  for  me  !  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  was  the  rather  gloomy  response. 

Presently  Drusus  waa  seen  coming  up  the  shaded  path  at  a 
very  brisk  stride.  He  had  been  playing  at  fencing  with  old 
Mamercus,  and  his  face  was  all  aglow  with  a  healthy  colour; 
there  was  a  bright  light  iu  his  eye.   When  he  saw  Cornelia  in 

^  A  long  tunic  worn  by  Romau  ladiw. 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


87. 


the  doorway  ne  gave  a  laugh  and  broke  into  a  run,  which 
brought  him  up  to  her  panting  and  merry. 

Then  as  he  saw  Lentulus  he  paused,  hair  ashamed  of  his 
display  of  boyish  ardour,  and  yet,  with  a  smile  and  a  gracious 
salutation,  asked  the  older  man  if  he  was  enjoying  good  health, 
and  congratulated  him  on  his  election. 

The  consul-designate  was  a  little  disarmed  by  this  straight- 
forward mode  of  procedure.  He  dropped  unuttered  the  elab- 
orate exordium  he  had  been  preparing  on  the  tendency  of 
young  men  to  be  led  astray  by  speciously  pleading  schemers, 
and  found  himself  replying  mildly  to  questions  about  himself 
and  various  old  friends  of  his,  whom  Drusus  had  known  as  a 
boy  before  he  went  to  Athens.  But  finally  the  young  man 
interrupted  this  pacific  discourse  with  the  query  :  — 

"  And,  most  noble  Lentulus,  what  is  the  business  on  which 
you  sent  for  me  ?  So  far  as  I  am  able,  the  uncle  of  Cornelia 
has  but  to  command." 

Lentulus  glanced  at  Claudia,  as  if  expecting  her  to  open  a 
delicate  subject;  but  that  excellent  lady  only  fingered  her 
palla,^  and  gave  vent  to  a  slight  cough.  Cornelia,  whose 
fears  had  all  passed  away,  stood  beside  Drusus,  with  one 
arm  resting  on  his  shoulder,  glancing  pertly  from  one  man  to 
the  other.     Lentulus  began  :  — 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  tell  you,  Quintus,  that  I  fear  your 
wedding  with  Cornelia  cannot  be  celebrated  as  soon  as  you 
hoped." 

"  Must  be  postponed !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  in  alarm  ; 
and  Cornelia  dropped  her  arm,  and  stared  at  her  uncle  in 
dismay. 

"I  fear  so,"  said  Lentulus,  dryly.  "  I  have  done  my  best 
to  husband  the  fortune  Caius  left  his  daughter ;  but,  as  per- 

1  A  Hbawl  woru  over  the  stola. 


88 


A  FKIEND  OF  C^SAB 


haps  you  know,  I  invested  a  very  large  part  of  it  in  the  tax- 
farming  syndicate  for  farther  Spain.  The  speculation  seemed 
safe,  but  local  wars  have  so  reduced  the  profits  that  they 
amount  to  nothing,  and  it  will  be  some  time  before  the  prin- 
cipal is  set  free.  Of  course,  in  ordinary  times  I  would  make 
up  the  sum  from  my  own  means,  but  I  have  had  very  heavy 
expenses  lately ;  consequently,  I  fear  you  cannot  marry  Cor- 
nelia until  I  am  in  a  position  to  pay  over  her  dowry." 

Drusus  burst  out  into  a  hearty,  boyish  laugh. 

"  My  dear  uncle,"  cried  he,  "  for  do  let  me  call  you  so,  I 
would  have  you  know  that  when  I  take  Cornelia  I  have  dowry 
sufficient.  Thanks  to  old  Vibulanus's  will,  I  may  call 
myself  passing  wealthy.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  you 
may  pay  over  the  marriage  portion  to  my  heirs,  if  so  you 
wish." 

Lentulus  seemed  considerably  relieved.  Claudia  broke  out 
with  loud  ejaculations  to  the  effect  that  Drusus,  she  always 
knew,  was  a  generous,  affectionate  fellow,  and  she  loved  him 
dearly.  Cornelia,  however,  looked  disturbed,  and  presently 
exclaimed :  — 

"It  isn't  right,  Quintus,  that  I  should  come  into  your  house 
with  not  a  se?  .ce  in  my  own  name,  as  if  you  had  married 
some  low  farmer's  daughter." 

"Phy!  pish!"  replied  Drusus.  "You  always  scold  the 
Greeks,  my  good  mistress,  and  yet,  like  them,  you  hold  that 
a  marriage  between  people  of  uneq  il  means  is  unhappy.  A 
penny  for  your  scruples!  I  have  laore  money  to-day  than  I 
know  what  to  do  with.  Besides,  if  it  will  make  you  happier, 
your  uncle  can  doubtless  pay  over  the  dowry  before  a  great 
while." 

"It's  certainly  very  kind  :>f  you,  Quintus,"  said  Lentulus 
(who  had  quite  made  up  his  mind  that  if  the  young  man 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


89 


«xmld  wait  for  what  was  a  very  tidy  fortune,  through  sheer 
affection  for  Cornelia,  he  would  be  pliable  enough  in  the  polit- 
ical matter),  "  not  to  press  me  in  this  affair.  Rest  assured, 
neither  you  nor  my  niece  will  be  the  losers  in  the  end.  But 
there's  one  other  thing  I  would  like  to  ask  you  about.  From 
what  Calvus  told  me  in  Rome,  Curio  and  certain  other  still 
worse  Populares^  were  trying  to  induce  you  to  join  their 
abominable  faction.  I  trust  you  gav.-  those  men  no  encour- 
agement ?  " 

Drusus  was  evidently  confused.  He  was  wishing  strongly 
that  Cornelia  was  away,  and  he  could  talk  to  her  uncle  with 
less  constraint.  He  felt  that  he  was  treading  on  very  danger- 
ous ground. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  he,  trying  painfully  to  answer  as  if  the 
words  cost  him  no  thought.  "  A"tonius  had  met  many  of  my 
father's  old  comrades  in  Gaul,  and  they  had  sent  a  number  of 
kind  messages  to  me.  Then,  too,  Balbus  invited  me  to  a 
dinner-party  and  there  I  met  Curio,  and  a  very  pleasant  time 
we  had.  I  cannot  recall  that  they  made  any  special  efforts  to 
enlist  me  as  a  partisan." 

In  this  laf*^,  Drusus  spoke  truly;  for  he  had  already 
thrown  in  his  lot  with  the  Caesarian  cause.  But  Lentulus 
knew  enough  of  the  case  to  realize  that  he  was  receiving  not 
the  whole  truth  but  only  a  half ;  and  being  a  man  of  a  sharp 
temper  that  was  under  very  imperfect  co-trol,  threw  di- 
plomacy to  the  winds,  and  replied  vehemently :  "  Don't 
attempt  to  cover  up  your  folly !  I  know  how  you  have  put 
yourdelf  in  the  power  of  those  conspirators.  Are  you  plan- 
ning to  turn  out  another  Catilina?" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  expostulated  Drusus,  doing  his  best  to  retain 

I  The  party  in  oppiisitiou,  since  the  time  of  Tiberius  Gracchus,  to  the  Senate 
party  — Optimatea;  at  this  time  the  Popularea  were  practically  all  Cwsarians. 


90 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


his  outward  calm,  « I  cannot  understand  of  what  fault  I  have 
become  guilty.  Is  it  wrong  in  Rome  to  accept  a  kindly 
invitation  from  an  old  family  friend  to  a  dinner?  Am  I 
responsible  for  the  persons  the  host  summoned  to  meet  me 
there  ?  " 

Drusus  had  been  simply  sparring  to  ward  off  the  real  point 
at  issue ;  like  many  persons  he  would  not  assert  hij  convic- 
tions and  motives  till  fairly  brought  to  bay.  But  that  moment 
came  almost  instantly. 

"  Don't  equivocate  !  Mehercle  !  "  cried  Lentulus,  getting  thor- 
oughly  angry.  "Can't  you  speak,  except  to  lie  and  quibble 
before  my  face  ?  Have  you  joined  the  gang  Curio  is  rallying 
for  Caesar  ?  " 
Drusus  was  losing  his  own  patience  now. 
"  Yes  !  And  we  shall  shortly  see  whether  the  Republic  is 
to  be  longer  ruined  by  incompetence  and  corruption !  " 

"  Uncle !  Quintus  ! "  implored  Cornelia,  forcing  herself 
between  them,  ana  casting  out  of  her  wide-open  eyes  on  each 
a  look  full  of  distress.  "  Don't  contend !  For  my  sake  be 
friends ! " 

"  For  your  sake ! "  raged  Lentulus,  his  florid  face  growing 
redder  and  redder.  "  I  will  take  care  to  keep  you  out  of  the 
clutches  of  a  man  who  deliberately  chooses  to  associate  with 
all  that  is  base  and  villanous.  Until  your  handsome  lover 
throws  over  connections  with  Ca;sar  and  his  fellow-conspira- 
tors, let  him  never  ask  for  your  hand !  " 

"Sir,"  burst  in  Drusus,  flushing  with  passion,  "do  you  dare 
to  set  at  naught  the  will  of  your  brother  and  its  express  com- 
mands?    Dare  you  withhold   from  me  what   is  legally  my 


own 


9" 


"  Legally  ?  "  replied  Lentulus,  with  sharp  scorn.      «  Don't 
use  that  word  to  a  consul-elect,  who  has  the  whole  Senate  and 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


91 


Pompeius  behind  him.  Laws  are  very  dangerous  tools  for  a 
young  man  to  meddle  with  in  a  case  like  this.  You  will  \xs 
wise  not  to  resort  to  the  courts." 

"  You  defy  the  law ! "  thundered  Drusus,  all  the  blood  of 
his  fighting  ancestors  tinglihg  in  his  veins.  "  Do  you  say  that 
to  a  Livian ;  to  thr  heir  of  eight  consuls,  two  censors,  a  master 
of  the  horse,  a  di*  itor,  and  three  triumphators  ?  Shall  not 
fee  obtain  justice  ?  " 

"And  perhaps,"  said  Lentulus,  sinking  into  an  attitude  of 
irritating  coldness,  "you  will  further  pross  your  claim  on  the 
ground  that  your  mother  was  a  Fabian,  and  the  Fabii  claim 
the  sole  right  to  sacrifice  to  Hercules  on  the  ^  reat  Altar  *  in 
the  Cattle-market  by  the  Flarainian  Circus,  because  they  are 
descended  from  Hercules  and  Evander.  I  think  the  Cornelian 
gens  can  show  quite  as  many  death-masks  in  its  atria,  and  your 
mock  heroics  will  only  stamp  you  as  a  very  bad  tragedian." 

"  Uncle !  Quintus ! "  implored  Cornelia  again,  the  tears 
beginning  to  start  from  her  eyes.  "  Cease  this  dreadful  quar- 
rel.   Go  away  until  you  can  talk  calmly." 

"QuintuG  Livius,"  shouted  Lentulus,  dropping  the  "Drusus," 
a  part  of  the  name  which  was  omitted  in  fonnal  address, 
"you  can  choose  here  and  now.  Forswear  your  Caesarian 
connections,  or  consider  my  niece's  betrotl.al  at  an  end ! " 

Drusus  stood  looking  in  blank  dismay  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  little  company.  Claudia  hod  started  to  speak,  but  closed 
her  lips  without  uttering  a  word.  Lentulus  fa  •''•  him,  hot, 
flushed,  and  with  a  cynical  smile  of  delight,  at  tl  .fliction  of 
mental  torture,  playing  over  his  face.  Cornelia  had  dropped 
down  upon  a  chair,  buried  her  pretty  face  in  her  hands,  and  was 
sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  It  was  a  moment  Drusus 
woidd  not  soon  *'>rget.    The  whole  scene  in  the  atrium  was 

1  Ara  Maxima. 


92 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


stamped  upon  his  memory;  the  drops  of  the  fountain  seemed 
frozen  in  mid-air;  the  rioting  satyr  ou  the  fresco  appeared  to 
oe  struggling  against  thj  limitations  of  paiut  and  plaster  to 
complete  his  bound;  he  saw  Cornelia  lift  her  head  and  begin 
to  address  him,  but  what  she  said  was  drowned  by  the  buzzing 
and  swirl  which  unsteadi^d  the  young  man's  entire  faculties. 
Dr.isus  felt  himself  turning  hot  and  cold,  and  in  f  .mi-faint- 
ness  he  caught  at  a  pilla.-,  and  leaned  upon  it.    He  felt 
numbed  mentally  and  physically.     Then,  by  a  mental  reac- 
tion, his  strong,  well-balanced  nature  reasserted  itself.     His 
head  cleared,  his  muscles  relaxed  their  feverish  tension,  he 
straightened  himself  and  met  the  cool  leer  of  Lentulus  with  a 
glance  stern  and  high ;  such  a  glance  as  many  a  Livian  before 
him  had  darted  on  foe  in  Senate  or  field  of  battle. 

"Lucius  Cornelius,"  said  he,  his  voice  perfectly  under  com- 
mand,  "  do  you  propose  to  defy  law  and  right  and  refuse  me 
the  hand  of  your  niece,  unless  I  do  your  will  ?  » 

Lentulus  thought  that  in  this  unimpassioned  speech  he  de- 
tected the  premonitions  of  a  capitulation  on  the  part  of  Drusus, 
and  with  a  voice  of  ill-timed  persuasion,  replied,  "  Be  reason- 
able, Drusus  ;  you  have  everything  to  gain  and  nothing  to  lose 
by  not  thwarting  my  wishes." 

"Your  wishes!"  retorted  Drusus,  with  a  menacing  step 
forward.  "Your  wishes!  You  are  consul-designate.  You 
ha  e  the  Senate,  you  have  your  tool,  Pompeius,  you  have  the 
gangs  of  gladiators  and  street  ruffians  and  all  the  machinery 
of  your  political  clubs  to  invoke  to  defy  the  law  !  I  grant  it ; 
but  though  you  deny  me  Cornelia,  though  by  your  machinal 
tions  you  bring  me  any  other  loss  or  shame,  the  grandson  of 
the  murdered  Marcus  Drusus  will  do  that  which  is  right  in  his 
own  eyes,  and  accept  no  maudatd  from  you  or  any  man,  against 
his  will  I " 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


93 


"Cornelia,"  cried  Claudia,  infinitely  distressed,  "speak  to 
Quintus,  reason  with  him,  implore  hJm,  pray  him  not  to 
resist  the  requests  of  your  uncle." 

"Yes,  girl!"  said  Leutulus,  savagely,  turning  livid  with 
sheer  rage,  "  use  all  your  arts  m  that  graceless  would-be  con- 
spirator now,  or  see  Uis  face  no  more ! " 

But  Cornelia  interposed  in  a  most  summary  and  unexpected 
manner.  Her  face  was  very  white ;  her  nails  pressed  into  her 
smooth  a^'ms,  her  breath  came  thick  and  spasmodically,  and 
her  eyes  flamed  with  the  intense  passion  of  a  strong  spirit 
thoroughly  aroused. 

"  Go,  Quintus,"  she  cried,  with  a  strained,  loud  voice,  "  go, 
and  never  see  my  fr^e  again,  until  my  uncle  repents  of  his 
cruel  madness !  He  is  master  here ;  only  woe  will  come  from 
defying  him.    Do  not  anger  him  further;  depart." 

"  Depart  ?  "  burst  from  Drusus. 

"  Dep'  rt  i "  replied  Cornelia,  desperately ;  "  if  you  stay  I  shall 
go  mad.  1  shall  beg  you  to  yield,  —  which  would  be  base  of  me ; 
and  if  you  heard  my  prayeio,  it  would  be  more  base  in  you." 

"  Fool,"  shouted  Lentulus,  "  don't  you  know  you  will  be  the 
first  I'll  mark  for  slaughter  in  the  next  proscription  ?  You, 
mistress,  go  to  yov^r  room,  if  you  cannot  keep  a  civil  tongue ! 
And  you,  sir,  get  you  gone,  unless  you  wish  the  slaves  to  cast 
you  out." 

"  Farewell,  Cornelia  ! "  gasped  the  young  man ;  and  he  turned 
his  back,  and  started  out  into  the  colonnade, 

"Oh,  Quintus,  return!"  shrieked  Claudia,  wringing  her 
hands.  "  All  the  gods  blast  you !  "  muttered  Lentulus,  quiver- 
ing with  fury ;  then  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  shrill,  harsh 
voice :  "  My  enemies  are  my  enemies.  You  are  warned.  Take 
care ! " 

"  And  do  you  take  warning !    A  Livian  never  forgets  I    Mars 


M 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


regai!    Let  War  rule ! "  cried  Drusus,  turning  i ;  the  vestibule, 
and  brandishing  a  knotted  fist.     Lentulus  stared  after  him, 
half  furious,  half  intimidated.     But  Claudia  glanced  back  into 
the  room  from  the  just  emptied  doorway,  and  gave  a  scream. 
"The  servants!    Help!    Water!    Cornelia  has  fainted ! » 


in 

Drusus  strode  down  the  long  avenue  of  shade  trees.  The 
gardener  stared  after  him,  as  the  young  man  went  by,  his  face 
knitted  with  a  scowl  of  combined  pain  and  fury,  with  never  a 
word  in  reply  to  the  t  stic's  kindly  salutation. 

Papm!"^  muttexca  the  man,  "what  has  befallen  Master 
Quintus  ?    Has  he  fallen  out  with  her  ladyship  ?  " 

Drusus  kept  on,  looking  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the 
left,  until  he  found  himself  past  the  boundary  stone  between 
his  own  estate  and  that  of  the  Lentuli.  Then  he  stopped 
and  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead.  It  was  damp  with  an 
unhealthy  sweat.  His  hands  and  frame  were  quivering  as  if 
in  an  ague.  He  seated  himself  on  a  stone  bench  by  the  road- 
way,  and  tried  to  collect  his  faculties. 

"Bear  up,  Drusus;  be  a  Livian,  as  you  boast  yourself,"  he 
declaimed  frantically  to  himself.  "Cornelia  shall  still  be 
yours!  All  things  are  possible  to  one  who  is  young  and 
strong,  with  a  clear  conscience ! " 

If  this  self^iebate  did  not  actually  stimulate  cheerfulness,  it 
at  least  revived  the  embers  of  hope;  and  Drusus  found  him- 
self trying  to  look  the  situation  fairly  in  the  face. 

"You  have  thrown  away  your  right  to  marry  the  dearest, 
loveliest,  and  noblest  girl  in  the  world,"  he  reflected  bitterly. 
"You  have  made  an  implacable  enemy  of  one  of  the  most 
»  "  Strange !    Marvelloml " 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


95 


powerful  men  of  the  state.  In  short,  your  happiness  is  gone, 
and  perhaps  your  life  is  in  danger  —  and  for  what  ?  A  dream 
of  reform  which  can  never  be  realized  ?  A  mad  conspiracy  to 
overthrow  the  commonwealth?  Is  Csesar  to  be  saviour  or 
despot  ?    For  what  have  you  sacrificed  yourself  ?  ' 

Lentulus,  he  knew  perfectly  well,  was  really  above  law. 
No  jury  would  ever  convict  the  leader  of  the  Senate  party. 
Drusus  could  never  contract  lawful  marriage  with  Cornelia,  so 
long  as  her  guardian  withheld  consent.  And  for  one  moment 
he  regretted  of  his  determination,  of  his  defiance.  Then  came 
reaction.  Drusus  called  up  all  his  innate  pride,  all  the 
strength  of  his  nobler  inspirations. 

"  I  have  set  my  face  toward  that  which  is  honourable  and 
right,"  cried  Drusus  to  his  own  soul;  "I  will  not  doubt. 
Whether  there  be  gods,  I  cannot  tell.  But  this  I  know,  the 
wise  and  good  have  counted  naught  dear  but  virtues;  and 
toward  this  end  I  will  strive." 

And  by  a  strong  effort  at  self-command,  he  forced  himself 
to  arise  from  the  bench  and  walk  back  to  his  own  estate, 
and  soon  he  was  pouring  the  whole  story  into  the  sympathetic 
ears  of  Mameicus,  Pausanias,  and  other  worthy  retainers. 

The  scene  that  had  taken  place  at  the  villa  of  the  Lentuli, 
soon  was  reported  through  all  the  adjacent  farms;  for  sev- 
eral slaves  had  been  the  mute  witnesses  of  the  angry  colloquy, 
and  had  not  been  slow  to  publish  the  report.  The  familia  of 
Drusus  was  in  a  tumult  of  indignation.  All  the  'rawny  Ger- 
mans and  Africans  whom  the  young  master  had  released  from 
the  slave-prison,  and  had  since  treated  w'th  kindness,  listened 
with  no  unfavourable  ear  to  the  proposal  which  Titus  Mamer- 
cus  — more  valorous  than  discreet  — wa,s  laying  before  them: 
to  arm  and  attack  Lentulus  in  his  own  villa,  and  so  avenge 
their  lord  in  a  summary  fashion. 


96 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


But  the  elder  Mamercus  dashed  the  martial  ambitions  of  his 
son. 

"Fool,"  cried  the  veteran,  emphatically,  when  the  project 
came  to  his  ears,  "do  you  wish  to  undo  yourself  and  Quintus 
too?  No  power  short  of  Jove  could  protect  you  and  him,  if 
aught  were  to  befall  Lentulus,  in  the  way  you  propose." 

"But  what  can  we  do,  father?"  replied  Titus,  sorry  to  see 
his  scheme  for  vengeance  blocked;  "shall  that  despicable 
tyrant  defy  law  and  justice,  and  refuse  to  give  Mistress  Cor- 
nelia  to  Quintus  ?  " 

"Silence  yoiur  folly!"  thundered  the  other,  who  was  him- 
self  quite  nonplussed  over  the  situation,  and  felt  Titus's  bold 
chatter  would  goad  him  into  something  desperate. 

The  truth  was,  neither  Pausanias  nor  any  other  of  Quintus's 
friends  could  see  any  means  of  coercing  the  consul^lect  into 
receding  from  his  position.  He  was  practically  above  law,  and 
could  not  with  safety  be  attacked  in  any  way.  Pausanias  could 
only  counsel  moderation  and  patience ;  perhaps  some  fortunate 
chance  would  alter  matters.  Drusus  spent  the  evening  in  a 
pathetically  forced  attempt  to  read  his  Callimachus.  He  was 
weary  physically,  and  intended  to  retire  early.  Emilia,  who 
felt  sorry  enough  for  the  plight  of  her  rather  distant  cousin, 
had  tried  to  console  him  and  divert  him  with  guitar »  music. 


and  had  called  in  an  itinerant 


piper,2  but  these  well-meant 


efforts  at  amusement  had  been  dreary  failures.    Drusus  had 

just    bidden    his   body-servants   undress  him,   when  he  was 

informed  that  Agias  had  come  from  the  Lentulan  villa,  and 
wished  to  see  him. 

Agias  was  full  of  protestations  of  delight  at  beholding  his 

*  Cithara. 

^r*I?KT*^'r".'*T  ^^''*'*'  '°  Italy  from  earliest  times:  they  still  suiw 
Tive,  albeit  in  alien  lands  and  with  less  tunefulinstruments. 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


97 


Intercessor  and  ransomer.  Prusus  could  hardly  recognize  in 
the  supple-limbed,  fair-complexioned,  vivacious  lad  before  him, 
the  wretched  creature  whom  Alfidius  had  driven  throiigh  the 
streets.  Agias's  message  was  short,  but  quite  long  enough  to 
make  Drusus's  pale  cheeks  flush  with  new  life,  his  sunken  eyes 
rekindle,  and  his  languor  vanish  into  energy.  Cornelia  would 
be  waiting  for  him  by  the  great  cypress  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Lentulan  villa,  as  soon  as  the  moon  rose. 

Druaus  prepared  himself  hurriedly,  and  refused  all  the 
entreaties  of  Titus  to  take  him  along  as  a  body-guai-d.  Time 
coursed  on  winged  feet,  as  the  young  man  hastened  out  into 
the  night,  and  half  ran  down  the  familiar  pathway.  The  day 
had  been  only  moderately  warm  for  the  season,  and  the  night 
was  cool,  though  not  cold.  A  soft  east  wind  was  blowing 
down  from  the  distant  Apennine;  and  all  the  trees  were 
rustling  gently.  Up  to  the  giant  ar'n  of  a  gnarled  oak,  fluttered 
an  owl,  which  hooted  noisily  as  the  young  man  hurried  beneath. 
The  crickets  were  chirping.  A  little  way  off  was  a  small 
stream  plunging  over  a  dam ;  from  it  came  a  liquid  roar ;  and 
the  little  wall  of  white  spray  was  just  visible  in  the  darkness. 
Out  from  the  orchards  drifted  the  fragrant  scent  of  apple, 
pear,  plum,  and  quince.  Still  more  sweet  was  the  breeze,  as  it 
swept  over  the  wide-stretching  rose-beds.  Overhead  Orion  a'ld 
Arcturus  were  glittering  in  that  hazy  splendour  which  belongs 
to  the  heavens  on  a  summer's  night. 

Drusus  kept  on,  only  half  noting  the  beaiity  of  the  darkness. 
When  he  entered  the  groves  of  the  Lentulan  villa,  almost  all 
light  failed  him,  and  but  for  his  intimate  knowledge  —  from 
boyhood  —  of  the  whole  locality,  he  could  never  have  kept  the 
path.  Then  the  mcxjulight  began  to  stream  up  in  the  east, 
and  between  the  trees  and  thickets  lay  the  long,  yellow  bars  of 
brightness,  while  all  else  was  still  in  gloom.     Drusus  pushed 


98 


A  FRIEND  OP  C^SAR 


on  with  confidence,  and  soon  the  gurgle  of  the  tiny  cataract 
told  him  that  he  was  near  the  old  cypress.  A  few  steps  more, 
and  a  figure  rose  from  out  the  fern  thicket.  It  was  Cornelia. 
Her  hair  was  tumbling  loosely  over  her  shoulders;  she  wore 
a  soft,  light-b'ue  dress  that  covered  her  arms  and  her  feet. 
In  the  moonlight  her  face  and  hands  appeared  as  bloodless  as 
white  marble. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,  Quintus,"  she  cried.  « I  couldn't 
say  farewell  to  you,  in  the  presence  of  my  uncle ! " 

"My  beautiful!"  cried  Drusus;  and  he  caught  her  in  his 
arms. 

The  moments  that  followed  were  as  bitter-sweet  as  may  be 
conceivable.  Each  knew  that  they  had  small  hope  of  an 
honourable  realization  of  their  love  one  for  another;  that  the 
moment  of  parting  would  soon  come.  But  for  the  instant 
they  were  in  Elysium,  caught  out  of  mortal  care  and  mortal 
sorrow,  and  knowing  nothing  but  the  pure  delight  of  the 
other's  presence.  Then,  at  last,  their  talk  became  less  enrap- 
tured;  the  vision  of  Olympus  faded  little  by  little;  the  stern 
reality  confronted  them  in  all  its  seriousness. 

"Cornelia,"  said  Quintus,  at  length,  "you  are  stil'  a  very 
young  woman.  This  day's  heart-breakings  may,  perhaps,  be 
long  pamful  to  you;  but  the  pangs  will  grow  faint  in  time 
You  and  I  may  still  cherish  fondness  in  our  hearts  for  each 
other,  but  how  dare  we  reasonably  hope  for  moie  ?  Evil  times 
are  at  hand.  If  your  uncle's  party  prevail  in  the  struggle,  my 
rum  is  assured.  But  not  yours.  There  are  manv  worthy  men 
who  would  be  proud  to  take  in  marriage  the  niece  of  the  next 
consul ;  and  with  one  of  these  you  can  live  happily.  Do  not 
try  to  forget  me.  I  don't  ask  that.  But  do  not  let  my  mis- 
fortune cast  a  shadow  over  your  dear  life.  Marry  some  honour- 
able  man.     Only  think  kindly  of  me  sometimes." 


A   VERY  OLD  PROBLEM 


99 


They  had  been  sitting  beside  the  brooklet,  on  the  soft  green- 
sward. Cornelia  had  been  resting  both  her  hands  in  Drusus's, 
but  now  she  drew  them  back,  and  sprang  to  her  fe.t,  as  if 
swept  away  by  a  gust  of  anger. 

"  How  dare  you !  "  she  cried,  "  how  dare  you  bid  me  throw 
away  all  that  my  heart  has  turned  on,  and  my  hopes  depended 
on,  and  my  imagination  dreamed  of,  siice  our  fathers  were 
slain  side  by  side;  and  more  especiall}  since  you  came  back 
from  Athens  ?  Why  might  not  I  bid  yoi,  renounce  your  adhe- 
rence to  Caesar's  cause,  and  say,  '  There  is  no  need  of  blasting 
your  career  by  such  a  sacrifice ;  remember  Caesar  and  his  party 
kindly,  wish  them  well,  but  do  not  dwell  too  much  thereon ; 
submit  cheerfully  to  what  is  inevitable  '  ?  Shall  I  argue  thus  '.' 
Have  I  argued  thus  ?  If  you  will,  abandon  me,  and  wed  some 
other  maiden,  and  many  there  are,  fair,  wealthy,  noble,  who 
will  be  glad  to  be  gi-en  in  marriage  to  a  Livius  Drusus.  But 
till  you  thus  repudiate  your  father's  will,  no  power  of  gods  or 
of  men  shall  drive  me  to  violate  that  of  mine." 

"  Cornelia,"  said  Drusus,  iu  a  husky  voice,  "  do  you  know 
what  you  are  saying?  What  rf  stance  to  threats  and  unkind 
treatment  your  resolve  wir  mean  ?  " 

"  I  both  know  the  future  and  accept  it,"  answered  the  maiden 
firmly,  looking  fairly  into  his  face. 

"  Then  by  all  the  powers  of  earth,  sky,  and  Hades  ! "  cried 
the  young  man,  lifting  one  arm  toward  l<eaven,  and  tlirowing 
the  other  about  his  sweetheart,  "I  will  lefy  Lentulus,  defy 
Pompeius,  defy  Senate,  army,  mob,  or  any  other  human  might. 
Hitherto  I  have  thought  to  play  the  patriot  in  espousing 
Cajsar's  cause.  Now  let  love  and  fury  fire  my  ardour.  W^hen 
the  party  of  violence  and  tyranny  falls,  then  ■  o  will  fall  the 
power  of  Lentulus  to  outrage  your  right  and  mine  !  Ours  shall 
be  a  triumph  of  Venus  as  well  as  of  Mars,  and  until  that  time, 


100 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^ESAK 


may  you  and  I  endure  faithful  unto  our  fathers,  ourselves,  and 
one  another ! " 

Hardly  had  he  spoken  ere  loud  voices  were  heard  calling 
through  the  grove.  Torches  were  glaring  among  the  trees,  and 
the  harsh  tones  of  Lentulus  burst  out :  — 

"  Take  the  wretched  girl  into  the  house  when  you  find  her ; 
but  as  for  her  lover,  let  him  not  escape ! " 

"  My  uncle  ! "  groanfed  Cornelia,  quivering  with  terror ;  "  one 
bi  my  maids  has  betrayed  me!  Flee!  run!  He  has  called 
out  all  his  slaves ;  they  will  kill  you ! " 

"  Kill  me  ?  "  gasped  Drusus,  incredulously ;  "  commit  delib- 
erate murder  ?  " 

"Yes,"  moaned  Cornelia;  "he  dares  anything.  He  is  all 
fury  and  violence.  Escape !  Do  not  throw  yourself  away  in 
vain ! " 

The  lights  flashed  nearer;  the  slaves  were  shouting  and 
blundering  through  the  bushes. 

"Two  philippi  to  the  man  who  strikes  Drusus  down!" 
bawled  Lentulus. 

It  was  no  time  for  delay  and  affectionate  leave-taking.  The 
young  man  threw  his  arms  around  Cornelia,  kissed  her  once, 
twice,  and  then  bounded  into  the  thicket.  A  moment  later 
several  of  the  servants  came  splashing  over  the  little  stream, 
and  found  Cornelia  alone  beside  the  great  cypress,  pale  and 
trembling  and  sobbing.  Drusus  caught  one  last  sight  of  her, 
surrounded  by  the  torches  of  the  pursuers.  Then  he  struck 
off  into  the  grove,  and  thanks  to  his  perfect  local  knowledge 
easily  avoided  meeting  Lentulus  or  his  slaves.  Lentulus  he 
would  gladly  have  confronted  alone.  What  would  have  fol- 
lowed, the  athletic  young  man  could  only  surmise  grimly ;  but 
he  was  unarmed,  and  for  Cornelia's  sake  he  must  take  no  risks. 

Close  to  the  confines  of  his  own  land  he  met  the  Mamerci, 


A  VERY  OLD  PROBLEM  id 

father  and  son,  and  several  slaves  and  freedmen,  all  armed 
and  anxious  to  know  whether  the  din  that  had  been  raised  over 
at  the  Lentulan  villa  betokened  any  danger  to  their  young 
master. 

Drusus  satisfied  them  that  he  had  suffered  no  injury.  The 
personal  peril  through  which  he  had  passed  brought  a  reaction 
of  excitement  which  raised  his  spirits,  and  he  went  to  bed  in 
a  mood  at  least  tolerably  cheerful.  If  he  could  not  enjoy  his 
love,  he  had  at  least  something  else  to  live  for  —  vengeance  • 
and  he  told  himself  that  he  had  a  whole  mature  lifetime  left 
in  which  to  make  Lentulus  repent  of  his  folly  and  tyrannical 
cruelty.  He  awoke  late  the  next  morn  in  a  calm  frame  of  mind, 
and  was  able  to  receive  with  outward  equanimity  the  news 
that  early  in  the  morning  Lentulus  had  taken  his  sister-in-law 
and  niece,  and  a  large  part  of  his  household,  back  to  Rome 
This  was  only  to  have  been  expected,  and  Drusus  listened  to 
the  information  without  useless  comment. 


CHAPTER  VI 


POMPEIUS  MAGNUS 


If  we  had  been  painting  an  ideal  heroine,  gifted  with  all 
the  virtue.'  which  Christian  traditions  of  female  perfection 
throw  arouad  such  characters,  Cornelia  would  have  resigned 
herself  quietly  to  the  inevitable,  and  exhibited  a  seraphic 
serenity  amid  tribulation.  But  she  was  only  a  grieved, 
embittered,  disappointed,  sorely  wronged,  Pagan  maiden,  who 
had  received  few  enough  lessons  in  forbearance  and  meekness. 
And  now  that  her  natural  sweetness  of  character  had  received 
so  severe  a  shock,  she  vented  too  often  the  rage  she  felt 
against  her  uncle  upon  her  helpL  ss  servants.  Her  maid 
Cassandra  —  who  was  the  one  that  had  told  Lentulus  of  her 
mistress's  nocturnal  meeting  with  Drusus  —  soon  felt  the 
weight  of  Cornelia's  wrath.  The  young  lady,  as  soon  as 
Lentulus  was  out  of  the  way,  caused  the  tell-tale  to  receive 
a  cruel  whipping,  which  kept  the  poor  slave-girl  ir"  waning  in 
her  cell  for  ten  days,  and  did  not  relieve  Cornelia's  own  dis- 
tress in  the  slightest  degree.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Cornelia 
was  perpetually  goaded  into  fresh  outbursts  of  desperation 
by  the  tyrannical  attitude  of  her  uncle.  Lentulus  boasted  h- 
her  presence  that  he  would  accomplish  Drusus's  undoing. 
"I'll  imitate  Sulla,"  he  would  announce,  in  mean  pleasure  at 
giving  his  niece  pain;  "I'll  see  how  many  heads  I  can  have 
set  up  as  he  did  at  the  Lacus  Servilius.  You  can  go  there, 
if  you  wish  to  kiss  your  lover." 

102 


POMPEIUS  MAGNUS 


103 


But  Cornelia's  life  at  Rome  was  rendered  unhappy  by  many 
other  things  besides  these  occasional  brutal  stabs  from  her 
uncle.     Her  mother,  as  has  been  hinted,  was  a  woman  of  the 
world,  and  had  an  intense  desire  to  draw  her  daughter  into 
her  own  circle  of  society.     Claudia  cared  for  Cornelia  in  a 
manner,  and  believed  it  was  a  real  kindness  to  tear  the  poor 
girl  away  from  her  solitary  broodings  and  plunge  her  into  the 
whirl  of  the  world  of  Roman  fashion.     Claudia  had  become 
an  intimate  of  Ciodia,  the  widow  of  Quintus   Metellus,  a 
woman  of  remarkable  gifts  and  a  notoriously  profligate  char- 
acter.    »  The  Medea  of  the  Palatine  Hill,"  Cicero  had  bitingly 
styled  her.     Nearly  all  the  youth  of  parts  and  social  distinc- 
tion enjoyed  the  wild  pleasures  of  Clodia's  garden   by  the 
Tiber.     Catullus  the  poet,  Caelius  the  brilliant  young  politi- 
cian, and  many  another  had  figured  as  lovers  of  this  soulless 
and  enchanting  woman.     And   into  Clodia's   gilded   circle 
Claudia  tried  desperately  to  drag  her  uaugliter.     The  Lentuli 
had  a  handsome  palace  on  the  Carinoe,  one  of  the  most  fash- 
ionable quarters  of  the  capital  ;  and  liere  there  were  many 
gay  gatherings  and  dinnev  .arties.     Cornelia  was  well  born 
enough,  by  reputation  wealthy  enough,  and  in  feature  hand- 
some enough,  to  have  a  goodly  proportion  of  the  young  men 
of  this   coterie   her  devoted  admirers  and   slaves.     Claudia 
observed  her  daughter's  social  triumphs  with  glee,  and  did  all 
she  could  to  give  Cornelia  plenty  of  this  kind  of  company. 
Cornelia  would  not  have  been  a  mortal  woman  if  she  had  not 
taken  a  cortain  amount  of  pleasure  in  noticing  and  exercising 
her  power.     The  first  occasion  when  she  appeared  at  a  formal 
banquet  in  the  splendid  Apollo  dinner  hall  of  the  Luculli, 
where  the  outlay  on  the  feast  was  fixed  by  a  regular  scale  at 
two  hundred  thousand  sesterces,  she  gathered  no  little  satis- 
faction by  the  consciousness  that  all  tlie  young  men  were 


104 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


admiring  her,  and  all  the  women  were  fuming  with  jealousy. 
But  this   life   was   unspeakably   wearisome,    after  the   first 
novelty  had  worn  away.     Cornelia  lived  in  an  age  when  many 
of  the  common  proprieties  and  decencies  of  our  present  society 
would  hi>ve  been  counted  prudish,  but  sh<^  could  not  close  her 
eyes  to  the  looseness  and  license  that  pervaded  her  mother's 
world.     Woman  had  become  almost  entirely  independent  of 
man  in  social  and  economic  matters,  though  the  law  still  kept 
its  fictions  of  tutelage.     Honourable  marriages  were  growing 
fewer  and  fewer.     Divorces  were  multiplying.     The  morality 
of  the  time  can  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  the  "  immaculate  " 
Marcus  Cato  separated  from  his  wife  that  a  frie  .;  might  marry 
her-,  and  when  the  friend  died,  married  her  himself  again. 
Scandals  and  love  intrigues  were  common   in  the  highest 
circles;  noble  ladies,  and  not  ballet-dancers^  merely,  thought 
it  of  little  account  to  have  Iheir  names  besmirched.     Every- 
thing in  society  was  splendid,  polished,  decorous,  cultivated 
ithout;  but  within,  hollow  and  rotten. 
Cornelia  grew  weary  and  sick  of  the  excitement,  the  fash- 
ionable chatter,  the  raongering  of  low  gossips.     She  loathed 
the  sight  of  the  effeminate  young  fops  who  tried  to  win 
her  smiles  by  presenting  themselves  for  a  polite  call  each 
morning,    polished  and  furbelowed,   and  rubbed  sleek  and 
smooth  with  Catanian  pumice.     Her  mother  disgusted  her  so 
utterly  that  she  began  to  entertain  the  most  unfilial  feeling 
toward  the  worthy  woman.     Cornelia  would  not  or  could  not 
understand  that  in  such  hot  weather  it  was  proper  to  wear 
lighter  rings  than  in  winter,  and  that  each  ring  must  be  set 
carefully  on  a  different  finger  joint  to  prevent  touching. 
Cornelia  watched  her  servants,  and  reached  the  astonishing 
oonolusion  that  these  humble  creatures  were  really  extracting 


1  Minm. 


POMPEIUS  MAGNUS 


106 


more  pleasure  out  of  life  than  herself.  Cassandra  had 
recovered  from  her  whipping,  and  was  ous*liag  about  her 
tasks  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Agias  seemed  to  have  a 
never  failing  fund  of  good  spirits.  He  was  always  ready  to 
tell  the  funniest  stories  or  retail  the  latest  news.  Once  or 
twice  he  brought  his  mistress  unspeakable  delight,  by  smug- 
gling into  the  house  letters  from  Drusus,  which  contained 
words  of  love  and  hope,  if  no  really  substantial  promises  for 
the  future.  But  this  was  poor  enough  comfort.  Drusus  wrote 
that  he  could  not  for  the  time  see  that  any  good  end  would  be 
served  by  coming  to  Rome,  and  he  would  remain  for  the 
present  in  Praeneste.  He  and  she  must  try  to  wait  in  patience, 
until  politics  took  such  a  turn  as  would  drive  Lentulus  into 
a  more  tractable  attitude.  Cornelia  found  the  days  monoto- 
nous f»,nd  dreary.  Her  uncle's  freedman  kept  her  under  con- 
stant espionage  to  prevent  a  chance  meeting  with  Drusus,  and 
but  for  Agias  she  would  have  been  little  better  than  a  prisoner, 
ever  in  charge  of  his  keepers. 

In  a  way,  however,  Cornelia  found  that  there  was  enough 
stirring  in  the  outside  world  to  lend  zest  and  often  venom 
to  the  average  emptiness  of  polite  conversation.  Politics 
were  penetratirGj  deeper  and  deeper  into  fashionable  society. 
Cornelia  hear(T  ow  Paulus,  the  consul,  had  taken  a  large 
present  fi-ora  <  •  to  preserve  neutrality;  and  how  Curio,  the 

tribune,  had  Ci.ocked  Clodius  Mrtrcellus,  the  other  consul, 
when  he  wished  to  take  steps  in  th.  Senate  against  Caesar. 
All  that  Cornelia  heard  of  tliat  absent  statesman  was  from 
hostile  lips;  consequently  she  had  him  painted  to  her  as 
blood-thirsty,  treacherous,  of  flagrant  immorality,  with  his 
one  object  to  gather  a  band  of  kindred  spirits  to  his  cause, 
and  become  despot.  And  to  hear  snob  reports  and  yet  to 
keep  confident  that  Drusus  was  not  sacrificing  both  himself 


106 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


and  her  in  a  worse  than  unworthy  cause  —  this  tested  her  to 
the  uttermost. 

To  add  to  her  troubles,  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  was  ever  thrust- 
ing in  his  attentions  at  eve.  ,  party  and  at  the  theatre;  and 
ner  uncle  openly  favoured  his  suit. 

"I  wish  you  would  be  'aore  friendly  to  him,"  remarked 
iiontulus  on  one  occasion.  "  I  should  be  glad  to  have  a  closer 
tie  between  his  family  and  ours." 

"Uncle,"  said  Cornelia,  much  distressed,  "I  do  not  think  I 
understand  what  you  mean." 

"Well,"  chuckled  Lentulus,  moving  away,  "think  it  over 
until  you  do  understand." 

Cornelia  had  been  reading  in  the  library  when  this  conver- 
sation took  place.  There  was  to  be  another  party  that  evening 
at  the  house  of  Marcus  Favonius,  a  prominent  anti-Csesarian, 
and  since  it  was  growing  late  in  the  aft'  .-noon,  it  was  time  to 
dress.  Cornelia  went  into  her  own  room,  and  was  summoning 
her  maids,  when  a  young  lady  of  about  iier  own  age,  who 
affected  to  be  on  terms  of  considerable  intimacy,  was  announced 
—  Herennia,  a  daughter  of  a  certain  rich  old  eques,  Caius 
Pontius,  who  had  kept  out  of  politics  and  hoarded  money, 
which  his  daughter  was  doing  her  best  to  spend. 

Herennia  was  already  dressed  for  the  party.  Her  brown 
hair  had  been  piled  up  in  an  enormous  mass  on  her  head,  eked 
out  by  false  tresses  and  puffings,  and  the  whole  plentifully 
powdered  with  gold  dust.  She  wore  a  prodigious  number  cf 
gaudily  set  rings;  her  neck  and  ears  and  girdle  were  ablaze 
with  gold  and  jewels.  So  far  from  aiming,  as  do  modern 
ladies,  to  reduce  the  waist  to  the  slenderest  possible  pro- 
portions, Herennia,  who  was  actually  quite  thin,  had  carefully 
padded  out  her  form  to  proper  dimensions,  and  showed  this 
fact  by  her  constrained  motions.     She  was  rouged  and  painted, 


POMPEIUS  MAGNUS 


107 


and  around  her  floated  an  in  ~ense  of  a  thousand  and  one  rare 
perfumes.  Her  amethystin  tunic  and  palla  were  of  pure 
silk  —  then  literally  worth  its  weight  in  gold  —  and  embroi- 
dered with  an  elaborate  pattern  in  which  pearls  and  other  gems 
played  a  conspicuous  part.  For  all  this  display  of  extrava- 
gance, Herennia  was  of  only  very  mediocre  beauty ;  and  it  was 
on  this  account  that  she  was  always  glad  to  make  uncomfort- 
able flings  at  her  "  dear  friend  "  Cornelia,  whenever  possible. 

Herennia  seated  herself  on  a  divan,  and  proceeded  to  plunge 
into  all  the  flying  gossip  of  the  day.  Incidentally  she  man- 
aged to  hint  that  Servius  Flaccus,  her  devoted  admirer,  had 
told  her  that  the  night  before  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  and  some 
of  his  friends  had  attacked  and  insulted  a  lady  on  her  way 
back  from  a  late  dinner.* 

"The  outrageous  scapegrace!"  cried  Cornelia,  while  her 
maids  hurried  along  a  toilet  which,  if  not  as  elaborate  as 
Herennia's,  took  some  little  time.  "  I  imagined  he  might  do 
such  things !     I  always  detested  liim !  " 

"Then  you  are  not  so  very  fond  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus," 
said  Herennia,  raising  her  carefully  painted  eyebrows,  as  if 
in  astonishment.     "I  am  really  a  little  surprised." 

"Surprised?"  reechoed  Cornelia.  "What  have  I  done  or 
said  that  makes  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  anything  more  than  a 
very  distant,  a  very  distant  acquaintance  ?  " 

"My  dear  girl,"  exclaimed  Herennia,  throwing  up  her 
hands,  "  either  you  are  the  best  actress,  or  the  most  innocent 
little  wight,  in  Rome !  Don't  you  know  all  that  they  say  about 
you?" 

"Who  —  say  —  what  —  about  —  me?"  stammered  Cornelia, 
rising  in  her  chair  so  suddenly,  as  to  disarrange  all  the  work 
Cassandra  had  been  doing  on  lier  hair. 


1  A  common  diversion  for  "  young  men  of  spirit." 


108 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"Why,  everybody,"  said  Herennia,  smiling  with  an  exas* 
perating  deliberation.  "  And  then  it  has  all  come  out  in  the 
daily  gazette."  * 

"Where  is  it?  Read!  Let  me  see,"  pleaded  Cornelia, 
agitated  and  trembling. 

"Why,  how  troubled  you  are,"  giggled  Herennia.  "Yes,  I 
have  my  freedman  copy  down  the  whole  bulletin  every  day, 
as  soon  as  it  is  posted  by  the  censor's  officers;  now  let  me 
see,"  and  she  produced  from  under  her  robe  a  number  of 
wooden,  wax-covered  tablets,  strung  together :  "  the  last  prae- 
tor's edict;  the  will  of  old  Publius  Blaesus; "  and  she  ran  over 
the  headings  with  maddening  slowness:  "the  speech  in  the 
Senate  of  Curio  —  what  an  impudent  rascal ;  the  money  paid 
yesterday  into  the  treasury,  —  how  dull  to  copy  all  that 
down! — the  meteor  which  fell  over  in  Tibur,  and  was  such  a 
prodigy;  oh,  yes,  here  it  is  at  last;  you  may  as  well  hear 
what  all  Rome  knows  now,  it's  at  the  end,  among  the  private 
affairs.  'Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  son  of  Lucius  Domitius,  the 
Consular,  and  Cornelia,  daughter  of  the  late  tribune,  Caius 
Lentulus,  are  in  love.     They  will  be  married  soon. '  " 

These  two  brief  sentences,  which  the  mechanical  difficulties 
under  which  journalistic  enterprise  laboured  at  that  day  made 
it  impossible  to  expand  into  a  modern  "article,"  were  quite 
sufficient  to  tell  a  whole  story  to  Rome.  Cornelia  realized 
instantly  that  she  had  been  made  the  victim  of  some  vile 
trick,  which  she  doubted  not  her  would-be  lover  and  her 
uncle  had  executed  in  collusion.  She  took  the  tablets  from 
Herennia's  hand,  without  a  word,  read  tlie  falsehoods  once, 
twice,  thrice.  The  meaning  of  the  day  attached  to  the  terms 
used  intimated  the  existence  of  a  low  intrigue,  quite  as  much 
as  any  honourable  "engagement."    If  Cornelia  did  not  soon 


^  Acta  Diuma,  prepared  officially. 


POMPEIUS  MAGNUS 


109 


become  the  lawful  wife  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  the  world 
would  feel  justified  in  piling  scandal  upon  her  name.  The 
blow  was  numbing  in  its  brutality.  Instead  of  crying  and 
execrating  the  liars,  as  Herennia  fully  expected  her  to  do, 
Cornelia  merely  handed  back  the  tablets,  and  said  with  cold 
dignity,  "I  think  some  very  unfortunate  mistake  has  been 
made.  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  is  no  friend  of  mine.  Will  you 
be  so  kind  as  to  leave  me  with  my  maids?" 

Herennia  was  overborne  by  the  calm,  commanding  attitude 
of  the  rival  she  had  meant  to  annoy.  Wherx  Cornelia  became 
not  the  radiant  d&mtante,  but  the  haughty  patrician  lady, 
there  was  that  about  her  which  made  her  wish  a  mandate. 
Herennia,  in  some  confusion,  withdrew.  "When  she  was  gone, 
Cornelia  ordered  her  maids  out  of  the  room,  stripped  off  the 
golden  tiara  they  had  been  plaiting  into  her  hair,  tore  away 
the  rings,  bracelets,  necklaces,  and  flung  herself  upon  the 
pillows  of  the  divan,  quivering  with  sobs.  She  did  not  know 
of  a  single  friend  who  could  help  her.  All  the  knowledge 
that  she  had  imbibed  taught  her  that  there  was  no  God  either 
to  hear  prayer,  or  succour  the  wronged.  Her  name  would 
become  a  laughing-stock  and  a  hissing,  to  be  put  on  a  par 
with  Clodia's  or  that  of  any  other  frivolous  woman,  itnless  she 
not  merely  gave  up  the  man  she  loved,  but  also  threw  herself 
into  the  arms  of  tlie  man  she  utterly  hated.  The  craving  for 
any  respite  was  intense.  She  was  young;  but  for  the  moment, 
at  least,  life  had  lost  every  glamour.  If  death  was  an  endless 
sleep,  why  not  welcome  it  as  a  blessed  release?  The  idea  of 
suicide  had  a  grasp  on  the  ancient  world  which  it  is  hard  at 
first  to  estimate.  A  healthy  reaction  might  have  stirred 
Cornelia  out  of  her  despair,  but  at  that  instant  the  impulse 
needed  to  make  her  commit  an  irrevocable  deed  must  have 
been  very  slight.     But  while  she  lay  on  the  pillows,  wretched 


110 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


and  heart -sick,  the  voice  of  Agias  was  heard  without,  bidding 
the  maids  admit  him  to  their  mistress. 

"Stay  outside.  I  can't  see  you  now,"  moaned  poor  Cor- 
nelia, feeling  that  for  once  the  sight  of  the  good-humoured, 
vivacious  slave-boy  would  be  maddening.  But  Agias  thrust 
back  the  curtains  and  boldly  entered.  What  he  said  will  be 
told  in  its  due  time  and  place ;  but  the  moment  he  had  gone 
Coruelia  was  calling  in  Cassandra,  and  ordering  the  maids  to 
dress  her  with  all  possible  speed  for  the  dinner-party. 

"I  must  be  all  smiles,  all  enchantments,"  she  was  saying  to 
herself.  "  I  must  dissemble.  I  must  win  confidences.  I  must 
do  everything,  and  anything.  I  have  no  right  to  indulge  in 
grief  any  longer.     Quintus's  dear  life  is  at  stake ! " 


n 

Lentulus  did  not  go  to  the  banquet  of  Favonius,  to  see  the 
unwonted  graciousness  witli  which  his  nie^e  received  the 
advances  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus.  Neither  was  Favonius  him- 
self present  at  his  own  entertainment.  They,  and  several 
others  of  the  high  magnates  of  their  party,  had  been  called 
away  by  an  urgent  summons,  and  spent  the  evening  in  secluded 
conference  with  no  less  a  personage  than  Pompeius,  or  as  he 
dearly  loved  to  be  called,  "  the  Magnus, "  in  his  aplendid  palace 
outside  the  walls  ou  the  Campus  Martins.  And  here  the 
conqueror  of  Mithridates  —  a  stout,  soldierly  man  of  six-and- 
fifty,  whose  best  quality  was  a  certain  sense  of  finatcial  hon- 
esty, and  whose  worst  an  extreme  susceptibility  to  the  grossest 
adulation  —  told  them  that  he  had  received  letters  from 
Labienus,  Cajsar's  most  trusted  lieutenant  in  Gaul,  declar- 
ing that  the  proconsul's  troops  would  never  fight  for  him,  that 
Caesar  would  never  be  able  to  stir  hand  or  foot  against  the 


POMPEIUS  MAGNUS 


111 


decrees  of  the  Senate,  and  that  he,  Labienus,  would  desert 
him  at  the  first  opportunity. 

Cheerful  news  this  to  the  noble  lords,  who  had  for  years 
scented  in  Caesar's  existence  and  prosperity  destruction  to 
their  own  oligarchic  rule  of  almost  the  known  world.  But 
when  Cato,  the  most  violent  anti-Caesarian  of  them  all,  a 
sharp,  wiry  man  wi.th  angular  features,  and  keen  black  eyes, 
demanded :  — 

"And  now,  Magnus,  you  will  not  hesitate  to  annihilate  the 
enemies  of  the  Republic?"  a  look  of  pained  indecision  flitted 
across  Pompeius's  face. 

"Perpol,  gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  would  that  I  were 
well  out  of  this.  Sometimes  I  think  that  you  are  leuding  me 
into  breaking  with  Caesar  for  some  ends  of  your  own.  He 
was  my  friend  l)efore  you  had  a  word  of  praise  for  me.  He 
loved  Julia;  so  did  I."  And  the  Magnus  paused  a  moment, 
overcome  by  the  thought  of  his  dead  wife.  "Perhaps  the 
Republic  demands  his  sacrifice,  perhaps  —  "  and  he  cast  a 
glance  half  of  menace  upon  Lentulus  Crus  and  Cato,  "you  are 
the  guilty,  not  he.     But  I  am  in  grievous  doubt." 

"Perhaps,  Magnus,"  said  Pavonius,  with  half  a  sneer, 
"you  think  your  forces  inadequate.  The  two  legions  at 
Luceria  are  just  detached  from  Cuesar.  Perhaps  you  question 
their  fidelity." 

"  Man,"  retorted  the  general,  fiercely,  bringing  his  foot  down 
upon  the  soft  rug  on  the  floor,  "  I  have  but  to  stamp  upon  the 
ground  to  call  up  legions  out  of  Italy;  it  is  not  that  which  1 
fear!" 

The  members  of  the  conference  looked  uneasy;  there  was 
still  a  bare  chance  that  Pompeius  would  go  back  to  his  old 
friendship  with  Caespr. 

"Gentlemen,"  went  on  the  Magnus,  "I  have   called  you 


112 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAB 


here  to  reach  a  final  decision  —  peace  or  war.  Let  us  consult 
a  higher  power  than  human."  And  he  touched  a  little  silver 
bell  that  was  upon  the  table  close  at  hand. 

Forthwith  there  was  a  rustle  of  curtains,  and  out  of  the  gloom 
of  the  doorway  —  for  the  hour  was  now  very  late — advanced 
a  tall,  gaunt  figure,  dressed  in  a  plain,  sleeveless  robe  that  fell 
to  the  feet.  The  skin  was  dry,  hard,  wrinkled  by  a  hundred 
furrows ;  the  bones  of  the  face  were  thrust  out  prominently ; 
on  the  head  was  a  plain  white  turban,  and  a  beard  quite  as 
white  fell  down  upon  the  breast.  Only  from  under  the  turban 
shone  the  eyes,  which  were  bright  and  piercing  as  coals  of  fire. 

The  stranger  advanced  without  a  word,  till  he  stood  before 
Pompeius,  then  knelt  and  made  an  elaborate  Oriental  prostra- 
tion. The  noble  Romans,  twelve  or  more  of  the  magnates  of 
the  greatest  power  on  the  earth,  held  their  breath  in  uneasy  an- 
ticipation. Not  one  of  them  perhaps  really  believed  in  a  per- 
sonal god ;  but  though  atheists,  they  could  not  forswear  their 
superstition.  Piso,  the  cense*.  w>io  notoriously  feared  neither 
divine  nor  human  law  in  his  reckless  life,  spat  thrice  to  ward 
off  the  effects  of  the  evil  eye,  if  the  stranger  were  a  magician. 

"Ulamhala,"  said  Pompeius,  addressing  the  newcomer, 
"arise.  Since  I  have  been  in  the  East,^  I  have  consulted 
you  and  your  science  of  the  stars,  in  every  intended  step,  and 
your  warnings  have  never  failed." 

"My  lord  doth  overcommend  the  wisdo.n  of  his  slave," 
replied  Ulamhala  (for  such  was  his  name)  in  Syriac  Greek, 
with  a  second  deep  obeisance. 

"Now,  therefore,"  went  on  Pompeius  —  and  his  voice  was 
unsteady  with  evident  excitement  and  anxiety,  —  "I  have 
called  you  hither  to  declare  the  warnings  of  the  stars  upon 

1 "  Chaldean "  astrologers  played  an  almost  incredibly  important  part 
wnong  even  the  highest-class  Romans  of  the  periud. 


POMPEIUS  MAGNUS 


113 


the  most  important  step  of  iny  life.  What  lies  now  at  stake, 
you  know  full  well.  Three  days  ago  I  bade  you  consult  the 
heavens,  that  this  night  you  might  be  able  to  declare  their 
message,  not  merely  to  me,  but  to  these  my  friends,  who  will 
shape  their  actions  by  mine.  Have  you  a  response  from  the 
planets?  " 

"I  have,  lord,"  and  again  Ulamhala  salaamed. 

"Then  declare,  be  it  good  or  ill;"  commanded  Pompeius, 
and  he  grippe      he  arms  of  his  chair  to  conceal  his  anxiety. 

The  scene  was  in  a  way  weird  enough.  The  visitors  ex- 
changed uneasy  glances,  and  Cato,  who  broke  out  in  some  silly 
remark  to  Favonius,  in  a  bold  attempt  to  interrupt  the 
oppressive  silence,  suddenly  found  his  words  growing  thick 
and  broken,  and  he  abruptly  became  silent.  Each  man  present 
tried  to  tell  himself  that  Pompeius  was  a  victim  of  super- 
stition, but  every  individual  felt  an  inward  monition  that 
something  portentous  was  about  to  be  uttered. 

The  conference  had  lasted  long.  The  lamps  were  flickering 
low.  Dark  shadows  were  loitering  in  every  corner  of  the 
room.  The  aroma  of  flowers  from  tlie  adjacent  gardens  floated 
in  at  the  open  windows,  and  made  the  hot  air  drugged  and 
heavj  Ulamhala  slowly  and  noiseless  as  a  cat  stepped  to 
the  window,  and,  leaning  out  over  the  marble  railing,  looked 
up  into  the  violet-black  heavens.  There  was  no  moon,  but  a 
trembling  flame  on  one  of  the  candelabras  threw  a  dull,  ruddy 
glow  over  his  white  dress  and  snowy  turban.  His  face  was 
hid  in  the  gloom,  but  the  others  knew,  though  they  could 
hardly  see,  that  he  was  pointing  apward  with  his  right  band. 

"Behold,"   began  the  astrologer,    "three  thousand  seven 

hundred  and  fifty  years  since  the  days  of  the  great  Sargon  of 

Agade  have  we  of  the  race  of  the  Chaldeans  studied  the  stars. 

One  generation  of  watchers  succeeded  another,  scanning  the 

I 


114 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


■■  ( 

I 


heavens  nightly  from  our  ziggtirats,^  and  we  have  learned  the 
laws  of  the  constellations ;  the  laws  of  Sin  the  moon,  the  laws 
of  Samaa  the  sun,  the  laws  of  the  planets,  the  laws  of  the 
fixed  stars.  Their  motions  and  their  influence  on  the  affairs 
of  m-^n  our  fathers  discovered,  and  have  handed  their  wisdom 
down  to  us.'" 

"But  the  word  of  the  stars  to  ms?"  broke  in  Pompeius,  in 
extreme  disquietude,  and  trying  to  shake  otf  the  spell  that 
held  liini  in  mastery. 

"  Know,  lord,  that  thy  slave  has  not  been  disobedient  unto 
thy  commandment.  Look,  yonder  burnetii  a  bright  red  planet, 
called  by  us  Xergal,  which  ye  Westerns  call  by  the  name  of 
Mars.  Who  denieth  that  when  Mars  shines  in  the  lieavens, 
war  will  break  forth  among  men?  Know  that  I  have  care- 
fully compared  the  settings,  risings,  and  movements  of  the 
planets  at  this  season  with  their  settings,  risings,  and  move- 
ments at  the  time  when  my  lord  was  born ;  and  also  at  the 
time  of  the  birth  of  his  great  enemy.  I  have  made  use  of  the 
tables  which  my  wise  predecessors  among  the  Clialdees  have 
prepared;  and  which  I  myself,  thy  slave,  copied  from  those 
at  the  Temple  of  Bel,  in  Babylon." 

"And  they  say?"  breathlessly  interrupted  Lentulus. 

"This  is  the  message  from  the  planets,"  and  Ulamhala's 
form  grew  higher,  his  voice  firmer;  he  raised  his  long  bony 
arms  above  his  head,  and  stood  in  the  dull  light  like  a  skeleton 
arisen  in  all  its  white  grave  clothes  to  convey  a  warning  to  the 
living.  "  To  the  Lord  Pompeius,  this  is  the  warning,  and  to 
his  enemy. 


I  have  said." 


' ' He  that  is  highest  shall  rise  yet  higher; 
He  that  is  second  shall  utterly  fall ." 

1  Babylonian  temple  towers. 


I 


POMPEIUS   MAGNUS 


115 


And  before  the  noble  Romans  could  command  the  free  play 
of  their  senses,  the  vision  at  tlie  window  had  vanished,  either 
0^2  of  doors,  or  behind  some  doorway  or  curtain.  The  com- 
pany sat  g?.:'ng  uneasily  at  each  other  for  several  minutes. 
Ti'e  Magaui  was  breathing  heavily,  as  though  he  had  passed 
:-i'nugh  a  Idrrible  mental  ordeal.  Cato,  the  Stoic  and  ascetic, 
had  his  ejes  riveted  on  the  carpet,  and  his  face  was  as  stony 
as  an  Egyptian  Colossus. 

Then  a  coarse  forced  laugh  from  Piso  broke  the  spell. 

"Capital,  Pompeius!     You  are  a  favourite  of  the  gods!  " 

"I?"  ventured  the  Magnus,  moving  his  lips  slowly. 

"Of  course,"  cried  several  voices  at  once,  catching  the  cue 
from  Piso.  "  You  are  the  first  in  the  world,  Cajsai  the  second! 
You  are  to  rise  to  new  glories,  and  Caesar  is  to  utterly  fall  I " 

"The  stars  have  said  it,  gentlemen,"  said  Pompeius,  sol- 
emnly; "Caesar  shall  meet  his  fate.     Let  there  be  war." 
»*»*♦»«»»« 

Lentulus  Crus  rode  away  from  the  cont'erence,  his  litter 
side  by  side  with  that  of  Lucius  Domitius  Ahenobarbus,  the 
consular,  whom  we  will  know  as  Domitius  to  distinguish  from 
his  son  and  namesake.  Domitius,  a  handsome,  Iiighly  pol- 
ished, vigorous,  but  none  the  less  unprincipled  man,  who  was 
just  reaching  the  turn  of  years,  was  in  high  spirits.  No 
oligarch  hated  Caesar  more  violently  than  he,  and  the  deciision 
of  Pompeius  was  a  great  personal  triumph,  the  crowning  of 
many  years  of  political  intrigue.  What  J'ompeius  had  said, 
he  had  said;  and  Ciesar,  the  great  foe  of  the  Senate  party, 
was  a  doomed  man. 

Lentulus  had  a  que  .aon  to  ask  his  companion. 

"Would  you  care  to  consider  a  marriage  alliance  between 
the  Lentuli  and  the  Domitii?"  was  his  proposition. 

"I  should  be  rejoiced  and  honoured  to  have  the  opportu- 


116 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


nity,"  was  the  reply;  and  then  in  another  tone  Domitius 
added,  "Lentulus,  do  you  believe  in  astrologers?" 

"I  do  not  really  know,"  answered  the  other,  uneasily. 

"Neither  do  I,"  continued  Domitius.  "But  suppose  the 
stars  speak  truly;  and  suppose,"  and  here  his  voice  fell,  "it 
is  Caesar  who  is  highest  in  power,  in  ability,  in  good  fortune; 
—  what  then  for  Pompeius?  for  us?" 

"Be  silent,  O  prophet  of  evil!"  retorted  Lentulus,  laugh- 
ing, but  not  very  naturally. 


CHAPTER  VII 

AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE 


PiSANDER's  view  of  life  became  a  score  of  shades  more 
rosy  when  he  seized   the  hand  of  the   handsome  slave-boy, 
then  embraced  him,  and   began   praising  the  gods   for  ])re- 
serving  his  favourite's  life.      Then    the   worthv   philosopher 
recollected  that  his  wisdom  taught  him  there  were  no  gods, 
and   he  plunged  into  a   rambling   explanation  of    his   posi- 
tion, which  would  have  lasted  forever,  unless  Agias  had  cut 
him   short  with  a  merry  gibe,  and   told   him  that   he  must 
positively  come  to  a  tavern  and  enjoy  at  least  one  beaker  of 
)od  Massic  in  memory  of  old  friendship.      And  Pisander, 
whose  spareness  of  living  arose  more  from  a  lack  of  means 
than  from   a  philosophic  aversion   to  food  and  good  cheer, 
was  soon  seated  on  a  bench  in  one  of  the  cheap  restaurants' 
that  abounded  in  the  city,  balancing  a  very  large  goblet,  and 
receiving  a  volley  of  questions  which  Agias  was  discharging 
about  Valeria's   eccentricities,   Calatinus's    canvass,   Arsinog, 
Semiramis,  and  the  rest  of  the  houseliold  of  which  he  had 
been  a  member. 

"But  you  havea't  told  me,  Agias,"  finally  interrupted  the 
poor  philosopher,  who  had  been  struggling  in  turn  to  satisfy 
his  curiosity,  "how  you  are  here,  and  not  — ugh!  I  hate  to 
think  of  it  —  feeding  the  dogs  and  the  crows." 

*  Popinm. 
117 


118 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


Agias's  face  grew  grave  while  he  gave  the  story  of  hia 
release  by  the  Vestal,  and  subsequent  transfer  of  ownership. 

"What  was  the  name  of  the  young  man  who  purchased 
you,  eh  ?  "  interpolated  Pisander.     "  I  didn't  get  it." 

"  Quintus  Livius  Drusus,"  replied  Agias. 

"  Who  ?  "  cried  the  philosopher,  starting  up. 

"  Quintus  Drusus,  of  Prseneste,"  repeated  the  other. 

"  Ai !  At !  In  the  name  of  Zeus ! '  jried  Pisander,  dropping 
the  beaker,  and  spil'^ng  the  wine  all  over  his  threadbare  hima- 
tion.  "  Oh,  such  a  \..  ■  Such  a  crime !  Was  ever  anything  so 
villanous  ever  heard  of  oefore ! " 

"  My  dear  Pisander,"  exclaimed  Agias,  all  amazement,  "  what 
is  the  matter  ?  Your  speech  is  as  obscure  as  Cinna's  *  poem 
called  'Zmyrna,'  which  I've  heard  was  ten  years  in  being 
written,  and  must  be  very  fine,  because  no  one  can  understand 
it.     No  more  can  I  fathom  you." 

"  What  a  stroke  of  fortune ! "  raved  the  philosopher. 
**  How  we  will  be  revenged  on  that  rascal,  Pratinas !  O 
Destiu/,  thy  decrees  are  just !  " 

Again  Agias  expostulated,  and  at  last  brought  out  of 
Pisander  a  tolerably  coherent  account  of  the  conversation 
which  he  had  heard  between  Valeria  and  Pratinas.  Then, 
indeed,  the  merry  slave-boy  was  troubled.  Accustomed  to  a 
rather  limited  ambition  in  life,  he  had  atta'-hed  himself  with 
implicit  devotion  to  Cornelia;  first  because  his  preserver, 
Drusus,  had  so  enjoined  him,  and  second  because  each  day 
he  g-ew  more  drawn  to  her  personally.  The  peril  which 
yawned  before  the  unfortunate  Drusus  menaced  at  the  same 
time  the  happiness  of  his  mistress  and  his  own  welfare, — 
for  if  Lucius  Aheuobarbus  had  his  way,  Agias  himself  would 
become  the  slave  of  that  not  very  gentle  patrician.    Cornelia 

1 A  poet  at  that  time  of  some  little  reputation. 


AGiAS's  ad\t:nture 


119 


and  Drusus  had  had  troubles  enough  before ;  but  in  the  pres- 
ent crisis,  actual  destruction  stared  Agias's  saviour  in  the  face. 
The  situation  was  maddening,  was  sickening.  Agias  wrung 
his  hands  in  anguish.  Th-jn  came  the  healthy  reaction. 
Drusus  was  still  alive  and  well.  He  could  be  warned.  The 
plot  could  be  thwarted.  Pratinas  and  Ahenobarbus  were 
not  ytt  beyond  the  reach  of  retribution.  He  — Agias  — was 
no  longer  to  be  a  mere  foot-boy  and  lackey ;  he  was  to  match 
his  keen  Greek  wits  in  subtle  intrigue  against  foemen  worthy 
of  his  steel.  He  would  save  Dmsus's  life,  would  save  Cor- 
nelia's  happiness.  If  he  succeeded,  who  knew  but  that  his 
owner  would  reward  him  —  would  give  him  freedom.  And 
with  a  natural  rebound  of  spirits,  Agias's  eyes  glittered  with 
expectation  and  excitement,  his  cheeks  flashed,  his  form 
expanded  to  a  manly  height. 

''Euge!  Well  done,  old  friend!"  he  cried,  with  the  mer- 
riment  of  intense  excitement.  « No  matter  if  you  say  you 
were  only  able  \,^  hear  a  small  part  of  what  our  dear  fellow- 
Hellene,  Pratinas,  told  Valeria.  I  have  gathered  enough  to 
defeat  the  plotters.  Leave  all  to  me.  If  you  learn  anything 
new,  send  word  to  the  house  of  Lentulus  Cms,  and  ask  to  see 
me.  And  now  I  must  forsake  this  pleasant  wine  untasted,  and 
hurry  away.  My  mistress  will  bless  you,  and  i)erhaps  there 
will  be  some  reward." 

And  leaving  the  bewildered  Pisander  to  wipe  the  wine 
from  his  dress,  Agias  had  darted  out  of  the  tavern,  and  was 
lost  in  the  hurly-burly  of  the  cattle-market. 

How  Agias  hau  forced  his  way  into  Cornelia's  presence  we 
have  related.  The  young  Greek  had  stated  his  unpleasant 
intelligence  as  diplomatically  and  r  rdedly  as  possible;  but 
Cornelia  had  borne  this  shock  — following  so  soon  upon  one 
sufficiently  cruel— grievously  enough.    After  all,  she  was  only 


Hi 


120 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


a  girl  —  perhaps  more  mature  for  her  years  '  han  the  aver 
age  maiden  of  her  age  of  to-day,  but  almost  friendless,  hope- 
less, and  beset  with  many  trials.  And  this  new  one  was  almost 
more  than  she  could  bear.  We  have  said  that  to  her  suicide 
had  but  just  before  appeared  a  refuge  to  be  desired;  but  to 
have  Quintus  die,  to  have  him  taken  out  of  that  life  that  ought 
to  be  so  fair  for  him,  no  matter  how  darksome  it  was  for  her  ; 
to  have  him  never  realize  her  ambition  that  he  become  a 
statesman,  warrior,  philosopher,  in  short  her  ideal  hero  — 
this  was  unbearable !  This  phase  of  the  question  was  so 
overpowering  that  she  forgot  to  feel  rage  against  Ahenobar- 
bus  and  his  wily  ally.  Cornelia  threw  herself  down  upon  the 
floor,  and  cried  to  Agias  to  slay  her  quickly.  She  did  not 
care  to  live ;  she  could  endure  no  more. 

Agias  here  manifested  exquisite  tact.  Instead  of  attempt- 
ing any  ordinary  means  of  expostulation,  he  pleaded  with  her 
not  to  give  way  to  despair;  that  Drusus  was  not  yet  at  the 
mercy  of  his  enemies;  that  she,  if  she  would,  could  do  an 
inlinite  deal  to  assist  him. 

"  I  save  Quintus  ?  "  questioned  Cornelia,  with  white,  quiv- 
ering lips. 

"  You  can  do  much,  my  lady,"  replied  Agias,  kindly  tak- 
ing her  by  the  hand,  and  with  gentle  pressure  forcing  her  to 
sit  on  the  divan.  "  You  can  do  what  neither  I,  nor  Pisander, 
nor  any  one  else  can  accomplish.  You  can  make  Lucius 
Ahenobarbus  betray  his  own  plot.  You,  and  you  only,  can 
penetrate  the  final  plans  of  the  conspirators.  Therefore  be 
strong,  and  do  not  despair." 

"  I  ?  What  can  J  do  ?  "  cried  Cornelia,  staring  at  him  with 
sad,  tearless  eyes. 

"Lady  Cornelia,"  said  Agias,  delicately,  "Drusus  would 
never  receive  back  his  life  if  it  were  to  be  purchased  by  any  sao 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE 


121 


rifice  of  honour  on  your  part.  But  this  is  not  needed.  Lucius 
A.henobarbus  —  forgive  my  plain  speech  —  worships  the  ground 
whereon  you  tread.  A  smile  from  you  raises  him  to  Olympus  ;  a 
compliment  from  you  makes  him  feel  himself  a  gotl ;  a  soft  word 
from  ;  ou  creates  him  the  peer  of  Zeus.  Lady,  I  know  you  hate 
that  man;  but  for  Master  Drusus's  sake  make  Ahenobarbus  be- 
lieve that  you  are  not  indifferent  to  his  advances.  Slander 
Drusus  before  him.  Complain  of  the  provisions  of  your 
father's  will  that,  despite  your  uncle's  intention,  will  make  it 
difficult  to  avoid  a  hateful  marriage.  If  in  the  past  you  have 
been  cold  to  Ahenobarbus,  grow  gracious ;  but  not  too  rapidly. 
Finally,  at  the  proper  time,  do  not  hesitate  to  urge  him  to  com- 
mit the  act  we  know  he  is  meditating.  Then  he  will  make  you 
a  full  partner  of  his  plot,  and  Pratinas  and  he  can  be  permar 
nently  thwarted." 

"  You  say  that  Drusus  can  be  saved  by  this  ?  "  asked  Corne- 
lia, steadying  herself  as  she  rose  from  the  divan. 

"  I  will  warn  him  at  once,"  replied  Agias.  "  Any  premature 
attempt  on  his  life  will  certainly  fail.  But  it  is  not  Ahenobar- 
bus that  I  fear ;  it  is  Pratinas.  Pratinas,  if  baffled  once,  will  only 
be  spurred  on  to  use  all  liis  cunning  in  a  second  trial.  We 
must  enmesh  the  conspirators  so  completely  that  when  their 
stab  is  parried,  not  merely  will  their  jxiwer  to  repeat  it  be  gone, 
but  they  themselves  will  be  in  danger  of  retribution.  And  for 
this,  some  one  must  be  confederate  to  their  final  plan." 

"  Agias,"  said  Cornelia,  quietly,  "  Quintus  said  that  you  would 
be  a  faithful  servant  to  him  and  to  myself.  I  believe  he  was 
right.  You  have  asked  a  great  thing  of  me,  Agias.  I  would 
not  do  it  unless  I  believed  that  you  were  unlike  other  slaves. 
I  might  imagine  that  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  had  bribed  you  to 
tell  me  this  story^  in  order  that  I  should  put  myself  in  his  power. 
But  I  trust  you.     I  will  do  anything  you  say.     For  you  Hel- 


122 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


"    :4 

■  ii 


lenes  have  wits  as  keen  as  sharp  steel,  and  I  know  that  you  will 
do  all  you  may  to  repay  your  debt  to  Quintus." 

Agias  knelt  down  and  kissed  the  robe  of  his  mistress.  "  My 
lady,"  he  said  gently,  "  it  is  no  grievous  thing  to  be  a  slave  of 
such  as  you.  Believe  me;  I  will  not  betray  my  trust.  And  now 
if  you  can  let  me  leave  you,  I  will  hurry  to  Pranneste,  and  for 
the  present  our  minds  may  be  at  rest.  For  old  Mamercus  will, 
I  am  sure,  be  able  to  take  good  care  of  Master  Drusus  for  yet 
awhile." 

"Go,  and  the  gods  —  if  there  be  gods  —  go  with  you!"  re- 
plied Cornelia.  Agias  kissed  her  robe  a  second  time,  and  was 
gone.  His  mistress  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  empty  room. 
On  the  wall  facing  her  was  a  painting  of  "  Ajjhrodite  rising  from 
the  Foam,"  which  Drusus  had  given  her.  The  sensuous  smiles 
on  the  face  of  the  goddess  sickened  Cornelia,  as  she  looked  upon 
it.  To  her,  at  the  moment,  laughter  was  more  hideous  than  any 
sobbing.  Outside  the  door  she  heard  the  gay,  witless  chatter 
of  the  maids  and  the  valets.  They  were  happy  —  they  —  slaves, 
"speaking  tools,"— and  she  with  the  blood  of  the  Claudii 
and  Cornelii  in  her  veins,  a  patrician  among  patricians,  the 
niece  of  a  consul-elect,  r  woman  who  was  the  heiress  of  states- 
men and  overturners  of  kingdoms,  —  she  was  miserable  beyond 
endurance.  Cornelia  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  wishing  she 
might  order  the  giggling  maids  to  be  flogged  and  their  laughter 
turned  into  howling.  Then  she  summoned  Cassandra. 
*♦«♦*#**♦* 

Cornelia  had  never  before  tried  to  play  the  actress,  but  that 
night  she  flung  herself  into  the  game  for  life  and  death  with  all 
the  earnestness  of  an  energetic,  intelligent,  and  spontaneous 
woman.  She  had  been  barely  civil  to  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  be- 
fore; to-night  the  young  man  began  to  persuade  himself  that  the 
object  of  his  affections  was  really  a  most  adorable  coquette,  who 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE 


123 


used  a  certain  bnisqueness  of  speech  to  add  to  her  witchery. 
He  had  heard  that  there  had  been  some  very  disagreeable  scenes 
at  Praeneste,  when  Lentulus  had  told  his  uiece  that  Drusus,  on 
accouut  of  his  dangerous  politics,  was  unfit  to  be  her  husband. 
But  Ahenobarbus  was  sure  that  either  these  accounts  were  ex- 
aggerated, or  more  likely,  Cornelia,  like  most  women,  was  quick 
to  fall  in  love  and  quick  to  leave  an  old  sweetheart  for  a  new 
one.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Lucius  felt  that  night  on  good  terms 
with  himself  and  all  the  world.  Phormio  had  consented  to  con- 
tinue his  loans  —  until  his  debtor  could  realize  on  "certain 
property."  Pratinas  had  said  that  Dumnorix  would  shortly 
start  with  a  band  of  gladiators  for  some  local  festival  at  Anag' 
nia,  a  little  beyond  Praeneste ;  and  on  the  way  back,  if  nothing 
went  amiss,  the  prearranged  programme  could  be  carried  out. 
Some  pretext  must  be  found  for  keeping  Drusus  on  his  estate 
at  the  time  when  Dumnorix  would  march  past  it,  and  that 
task  could  be  confided  to  Phaon,  Lucius's  freedman,  a  sly  fox 
entirely  after  his  patron's  own  heart. 

Cornelia,  to  whom  the  dinner-party  at  Favonius's  house  began 
as  ?  dreary  enough  tragedy,  before  long  discovered  that  it  was 
by  no  means  more  easy  to  suck  undiluted  sorrow  than  unmixed 
gladness  out  of  life.  It  gratified  her  to  imagine  the  rage  and 
dismay  of  the  young  exquisite  whose  couch  was  beside  her 
chair,'  when  he  should  learn  1  )W  completely  he  had  been  duped. 
Then,  too,  Lucius  Ahenoba  ms  had  a  voluble  flow  of  polite 
small  talk,  and  he  knew  how  to  display  his  accomplishments 
to  full  advantage.  He  had  a  fair  share  of  wit  and  humour ;  and 
when  he  fancied  that  Cornelis  was  not  impervious  to  his  ad- 
vances, he  became  more  agreeable  and  more  ardent.  Once  or 
twice  Cornelia  frightened  herself  by  laughing  without  conscious 

1  Women  Mt  at  Roman  banquets,  unless  the  company  was  of  a  questionable 
character. 


124 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


It 


i    ': 
•  I    'I 


N 


forcing.  Yet  it  was  an  immense  relief  to  her  when  the  baa 
quet  was  over,  and  the  guests  —  for  Favonius  liud  ordered 
that  none  should  be  given  enough  wine  to  be  absolutely 
drunken  —  called  for  their  sandals  and  litters  and  went  their 
ways. 

"  And  you,  O  Adorable,  Calypso,  Circe,  Nausiraa,  Med^a,  — 
what  shall  I  call  you  ?  — you  will  not  be  angry  if  I  call  to  see 
you  to-morrow  ?  "  said  Ahenobarbus,  smiling  as  he  parted  from 
Cornelia. 

"  If  you  come,"  was  her  response,  "  I  shall  not  perhaps  order 
the  slaves  to  pitch  you  out  heels  over  head." 

"  Ah  !  That  is  a  guarded  assent,  indeed,"  laughed  Lucius, 
"  but  farewell,  pulcherrima  !  "  * 

C;ornelia  that  night  lay  down  and  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 
Tier  mother  had  congratulated  her  on  her  brilliant  social  suc- 
j'.ss  at  the  dinner-party,  and  had  praised  her  for  treating  Lucius 
Ahenobarbus  as  she  had. 

"  You  know,  my  dear."  the  worthy  woman  had  concluded, 
"  that  since  it  has  seemed  necessary  to  break  off  with  Drusus, 
a  marriage  with  Lucius  would  be  at  once  recommended  by  your 
father's  will,  and  in  many  ways  highly  desirable." 

II 

Only  a  very  few  days  later  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  received  a 
message  bidding  him  come  to  see  his  father  at  the  family  pal- 
ace on  the  Palatine.  Lucius  had  almost  cut  himself  clear  from 
his  relations.  He  had  his  own  bachelor  apartments,  and  Do- 
mitius  had  been  glad  to  have  him  out  of  the  way.  A  sort  o*' 
fiction  existed  that  he  was  legally  under  t\iepatriapotestaa,^  an^- 

1  Most  beautiful. 

2  Sons  remained  under  the  lefjal  control  of  a  father  until  the  latter's  death, 
unless  the  tie  was  dissolved  by  elaborate  cereuionies. 


(i    :f 


.>>!■ 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE  125 

could  only  have  debts  and  assets  on  his  father's  responsibility 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact  his  parent  seldom  paid  him  any  atten' 
tion;  and  only  called  on  him  to  report  at  home  when  there 
was  a  public  or  family  festival,  or  something  very  important 
Consequently  he  knew  that  matters  serious  were  on  foot,  when 
he  read  in  his  father's  note  a  request  to  visit  Domitius's  palace 
as  soon  as  convenient.  Lucius  was  just  starting,  in  his  most 
spotless  toga,  — after  a  prolonged  season  with  his  hairdresser, 
—  to  pay  a  morning  call  on  Cornelia,  and  so  he  was  the  more' 
vexed  and  perturbed. 

"  Curses  on  Cato,'  my  old  uncle,"  he  muttered,  while  he  waited 
m  the  splendid  atriun  of  the  house  of  the  Ahenobarbi.  "He  has 
been  rating  my  father  about  my  pranks  with  Gabinius  and  L«ca, 
and  something  unpleasant  is  in  store  for  me." 

Domitius  presently  appeared,  and  his  son  soon  noticed  by 
the  affable  yet  diplomatic  manner  of  his  father,  and  the  gentle 
warmth  of  his  greeting,  that  although  there  wa.:  something  in 
the  background,  it  was  not  necessarily  very  disagreeable. 

"  My  dear  Lucius,"  began  Domitius,  after  the  first  civilities 
were  over,  and  the  father  and  sen  had  strolled  into  a  hand- 
somely appointed  library  and  taken  seats  on  a  deeply  uphol- 
stered couch,  « I  have,  I  think,  been  an  indulgent  parent.  But 
I  must  tell  you,  I  have  heard  some  very  bad  stories  of  late 
about  your  manner  of  life." 

"Oh!"  roplied  Lucius,  smiling.  "As  your  worthy  friend 
Cicero  remarked  when  defending  young  Ca^lius,  'those  sorts  of 
reproaches  are  regularly  heaped  on  every  one  whose  person  or 
appearance  in  youth  is  at  ail  gentlemanly.' " 

"I  will  thank  you  if  you  will  not  quote  Cicero  to  me," 

»  Cato  Minr-'s  sister  Portia  was  the  wife  of  Lucius  Domitius.    Cato  was 

also  connected  with  the  Drnsi  through  Marcus  Livius  Drusus,  the  murdered 

reformer,  who  was  the  maternal  uncle  of  Cato  and  Portia.    Lucius  Ahenobar^ 

bUB  and  Quintus  Drusus  were  thus  third  cousins. 


126 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


iH 


i! 

i  i 
i  I 

■  I 

■ii 

1 

ii 


replied  the  elder  man,  a  little  tartly.  "  He  will  soon  be  back 
from  Cilicia,  and  will  be  prodding  and  wearying  us  in  the 
Senate  quite  enough,  with  his  rhetoric  and  sophistries.  But  I 
must  be  more  precise.  I  have  found  out  how  much  you  owe 
Phormio.  I  thought  your  dead  uncle  hatl  left  you  a  moderately 
large  estate  for  a  young  man.  Where  has  it  gone  to  ?  Don't 
try  to  conceal  it!  It's  been  eaten  u  <  and  drunk  up  —  spent 
away  for  unguents,  washed  away  in  ;our  baths,  the  fish-dealer 
and  the  caterer  have  made  way  with  it,  yes,  and  butchers  and 
cooks,  and  greengrocers  and  perfume  sellers,  and  poulterers  — 
not  to  mention  people  more  scandalous  —  have  made  off  with 
it." 

Lucius  stretched  himself  out  on  the  divan,  caught  at  a  thick, 
richly  embroidered  pillow,  tossed  it  over  his  head  on  to  the 
floor,  yawned,  raised  himself  again  upright,  and  said  drawl- 
ingly :  — 

"  Y-e-s,  it's  as  you  say.  I  find  I  spend  every  sesterce  I 
have,  and  all  I  can  borrow.  But  so  long  as  Phormio  is  ac- 
commodating, I  don't  trouble  myself  very  much  about  the 
debts." 

"  Lucius,"  said  Domitius,  sternly,  "  you  are  a  graceless  spend- 
thrift. Of  course  you  must  have  the  sport  which  all  young 
blood  needs.  But  your  extravagance  goes  beyond  all  bounds. 
L  call  myself  a  rich  man,  but  to  leave  you  half  my  fortune, 
dividing  with  your  older  brother  Cnseus,  who  is  a  far  steadier 
and  saner  man  than  you,  would  be  to  assure  myself  that  Greek 
parasites  and  low  women  would  riot  through  that  part  of  my 
estate  in  a  twelvemonth.  You  must  reform,  Lucius;  you  must 
reform." 

This  was  getting  extremely  disagreeable  in  spite  of  his 
expectations,  and  the  young  man  yawned  a  second  time,  then 
answered : — 


AGIAS'S   ADVENTURE 


127 


"Well,  I  presume  Uncle  Cato  has  told  you  all  kinds  of 
stories ;  but  they  areu't  at  all  true.  I  really  never  had  a  great 
deal  of  money," 

"  Lucius,"  went  on  his  father,  "you  a^  j  grown  to  manhood. 
It  is  time  that  you  steadied  in  life.  I  have  let  you  live  by 
yourself  too  long.  You  are  even  too  indolent  to  engage  in 
imlitics,  or  to  go  into  the  army.  I  have  come  to  a  deter- 
mination.  You  must  marry  the  woman  I  have  selected  for 
you." 

Ahenobarbus  pricked  up  his  ears.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
had  surmised  what  was  coming,  but  he  had  no  intention  of 
admitting  anything  prematurely. 

"  Really,  father,"  he  said,  "  1  hope  you  won't  use  your  legal 
right  and  force  a  wife  on  me.  I  have  no  desire  to  'tie  myself 
up  to  a  decent  married  life." 

"I  hardly   think,"  said  Domitius,  smiling,  "that  you  will 
resist  my  wishes  long.     I  have  seen  Lentulus  Crus  the  consul- 
elect,  and  he  and  I  agree  that  since  your  mother's  distant  kins- 
man Quintus  Drusus  of  Pr;eneste  is  an  unsuitable  husband  for 
Cornelia,  Lentulus's  niece,  on  account  of  his  very  dangerous 
political  tendencies,  no  happier  alliance  could  bind  our  families 
together  than  a  marriage  between  Cornelia  and  yourself." 
Lucius  yawned  a  third  time  and  fell  back  on  the  couch. 
"  It's  true,"  he  ventured,  "  I  have  cared  a  good  deal  for  Cor- 
nelia; and  I've  thrown  over  that  little  Greek  Clyte  and  all  the 
others  for  her;  but  then,  to  make  a  giri  your  sweetheart  and  to 
make   her  your   wife  are   two   very  different  tilings.     Vimi 
Opimia  is  best;   but  because  one  drinks  a  ajathns^  of  that, 
why  should  he  forego  a  good  fill  of  Thasian  or  Cjecuban  ?    If  I 
could  have  but  one  choice,  give  me  plenty  of  the  good,  and  I'll 
give  up  my  few  drops  of  the  best." 

1  About  one-twelfth  pint. 


128 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


"  Come,  come,"  said  Domitius,  a  little  impatiently,  "  you  must 
positively  reform.  Besidea,  while  appearances  must  be  kept 
up,  there  is  no  need  for  leading  the  life  of  a  Stoic.  You  won't 
find  Cornelia  a  hard  companion.  You  have  your  pleasures  and 
she  hers,  and  you  will  live  harmoniously  enough  and  not  the 
least  scandal." 

And  with  this  remark  Domitius  closed  the  matter,  and  Lucius 
was  actually  delighted  at  the  situation.  What  his  father  had 
said  had  been  true  enough ;  half,  nay,  nearly  all,  Rome  lived  in 
the  manner  Domitius  had  guardedly  proposed  for  his  son  and 
intend  .d  daughter-in-law.  Marriage  was  becoming  more  and 
more  a  mere  formality,  something  that  was  kept  up  as  the 
ancient  state  Pagan  worship  was  kept  up  by  the  remnants  of 
old-time  superstition,  and  as  a  cloak  to  hide  a  multitude  of  sins. 
Fifty-nine  years  before,  the  consul  Metellus  Numidicus  had 
declaimed,  "Quirites,  we  would  fain  be  free  from  all  this 
annoyance  (of  marriage) ;  but  since  nature  has  so  brought  it 
ibout  that  it  is  neither  possible  to  live  pleasantly  with  our 
wives  nor  by  any  means  to  live  (as  a  race)  without  them,  we 
ought  to  consider  the  welfare  of  the  future  rather  than  the 
mere  passing  pleasure  of  the  present."  And  ever  since  that 
day  Romans  had  been  striving  desperately  to  make  the  married 
state  as  endurable  as  possible ;  usually  by  reducing  the  impor- 
tance of  lawful  wedlock  to  a  minimum. 

Of  course  the  announcement  of  the  informal  betrothal  was 
soon  spread  over  Rome.  The  contracting  parties  were  in  the 
very  highest  life,  and  everybody  declared  that  the  whole  affair 
was  a  political  deal  between  Lentulus  Cms  and  Domitius.  It 
was  commonly  reported,  too,  how  Cornelia  had  broken  with 
Drusus,  and  every  one  remarked  that  if  the  young  man  had 
cared  to  enforce  her  father's  will  in  the  courts,  his  claim  to  her 
hand  and  fortune  would  be  valid  unless  —  and  here  most  people 


AGIAS'S   ADVENTURE 


129 


exchanged  sly  winks,  for  they  knew  the  power  of  Domitius 
and  Lentuhis  Crus  over  a  jury. 

And  how  had   Cornelia  borne  it  — she  at  whom  Herennia 
had  stared  in  amazement,  when  that  "  dear  friend  "  discovered 
the  friendship  the  other  was  displaying  to  Lucius  Ahenobar- 
bus?    Cornelia  had  received  the  aiuiouncenipnt  very  quietly, 
one  might  almost  say  resignedly.     She  had  one  great  hope  and 
consolation  to  support  her.     They  would  not  force  her  to  marry 
Lucius  Ahenobarbus  until  Drusus  was  dead  or  had  reached 
the  age  of  five-and-twenty.     The  marriage  formula  with  Ahen- 
obarbus once  utteied,  while  Quintus  lived,  and  by  no  possibility, 
save  by  an  open  spoliation  that  would  have  stirred  even  cal- 
loused Rome,  could  Lucius  touch  a  sesterce  of  his   intended 
victim's  property.     Cornelia's  hope  now.  strangely  enough,  was 
in  the  man  she  regarded  as  the  most  consummate  villain  in  the 
Avorld,  Pratinas.     Ahenobarbus  might  have  his  debts  paid  by 
his  father,  and  forego  risk  and  crime  if  he  did  not  absolutely 
need  Drusus's  fortune;   but  Pratinas,  slie  knew,  must  have 
planned  to  secure  rich  pickings  of  his  own,  and  if  Ahenobarbus 
married  permanently,  all  these  were  lost ;  and  the  Greeks  never 
turned  back  or  let  another  turn  bark,  when  there  was  a  fortune 
before  +!xem.     It  was  a  fearful  sort  of  confidence.     Drusus  had 
been  warned  promptly  by  Agias.     Old  Mamercus  had  straight- 
way taken  every  precaution,  and  forced  his  foster  son  to  put 
himself  in  a  sort  of  custody,  which  Avas  sufficiently  galling,  in 
addition  to  the  ever  present  sense  of  personal  danger.  The  villa 
at  Praeneste  was  guarded  quietly  by  several  armed  slaves  and 
peasants;  not  a  morsel  or  drop  passed  Drusus's  lips  that  had  not 
been  tested  and  tasted  by  a  trusty  dependent.     The  young  man 
was  not  to  go  to  Rome,  despite  his  infinite  yearning  to  see 
Cornelia,  for  every  opportunity  would  be  given   in  the  dark 
city  streets  for  an  assassin.     In  fact,  Drusus  was  virtually  a 


130 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


prisoner  in  his  own  estates,  for  only  there  could  he  feel  reason 
ably  safe  from  attack. 

All  these  precautions  Cornelia  knew,  for  Agias  was  a  mas- 
ter at  smuggling  letters  in  and  out.     She  had  told  Drusus 
frankly  all  that  had  passed,  and  how  that  she  was  acting  as 
she  did  only  for  his  sake.     She  asked  him  to  trust  her,  and  he 
wrote  back  that  no  doubt  of  her  fidelity  to  him  had  crossed  his 
mind ;  he  was  not  worthy  of  such  love  as  she  had  for  him ;  it 
did  not  matter  very  much  if  Ahenobarbus  did  kill  him,  except 
that  it  would  give  her  new  grief  and  pain,  and  the  thought  of 
that  he  could  not  be«,r.    Cornelia  had  replied  that  if  Drusus 
was  murdered,  she  was  woman  enough  and  Roman  enough  to 
stab  Lucius  Aheno'>arbus  on  their  marriage  night,  and  then 
plunge  the  dagger  into  her  own  breast.    And  there  the  fear- 
fill  matter  had  rested ;  Cornelia  smiled  by  day,  and  dazzled  all 
she  met  by  her  vivacity,  and  her  aggressive  queenliness;  and 
by  night  cried  with  tearless  sobs,  which  came  out  of  the  depths 
of  her  heart.    And  all  the  time  she  waited  for  Agias  to  foil 
the  plot,  and  assure  Drusus  of  his  life.    Let  Quintus  once  be 
safe,  and  then  —  how  could  she  resist  the  irresistible  press- 
ure that  would  be  brought  to  bear  to  force  her  into  a  hated 
marriage,  which  Ahenobarbus  —  balked  though  he  might  be 
of  a  fortune  —  would  no  longer  care  to  defer?    And  when  Cor- 
nelia thought  of  this,  and  when  she  was  alone,  she  would  open 
a  little  casket,  of  which  no  other  had  the  key,  and  touch  the 
ivory-carved  hilt  of  a  small  damascened  knife.    The  blade  was 
very  sharp  ;  and  there  was  a  sticky  gum  all  along  the  edge,  — 
a  deadly  poison ;  only  a  very  slight  scratch  put  one  beyond 
aid  of  physician. 

The  bitterest  cup  of  all  was  the  attitude  she  felt  forced  to 
assume  toward  Lucius  Ahenobarbus.  There  were  limits  of 
familiarity  and  simulated  affection  beyond  which  she  could 


^ 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE 


131 


not  drive  herself  to  go.  Lucius  was  with  her  a  all  hours  and 
in  all  places.  The  more  she  saw  of  him  the  more  she  abhorred 
his  effeminate  sensuality  and  lack  of  almost  every  quality  that 
made  life  worth  the  living.  But  she  must  — she  must  learn 
the  plot  against  Drusus,  and  precisely  how  and  when  the  trap 
was  to  be  sprung.  And  in  a  measure,  at  least  so  far  as 
Lucius  was  concerned,  she  succeeded.  By  continually  and 
openly  reviling  Quintus,  by  professing  to  doubt  the  legality  of 
a  marriage  contracted  against  the  terms  of  her  father's  will,  by 
all  but  expressing  the  wish  that  her  late  lover  were  out  of 
harm's  way,  she  won  her  point.  In  a  fit  of  half-drunken  con- 
fidence Ahenobarbus  assured  her  that  she  would  not  be  troubled 
by  Drusus  for  long ;  that  he  ould  soon  be  unable  to  annoy  her. 
And  then  came  a  great  disappointment.    When  Cornelia  asked 

—  and  how  much  the  request  cost  her,  only  she  herself  knew 

—  to  be  let  into  the  plot,  Lucius  owned  that  he  had  left  the 
details  in  the  hands  of  Pratinas,  and  did  not  himself  know 
just  how  or  when  the  blow  was  to  fall.  In  Pratinas  —  whom 
Cornelia  met  very  seldom  — she  met  with  a  sphinx,  ever  smil- 
ing,  ever  gracious,  but  who,  as  if  regretting  the  burst  of  confi- 
dence he  had  allowed  Valeria,  kept  himself  closed  to  the 
insinuations  and  half-questions  of  every  one  else.  The  truth 
was,  the  lanista  Dumnorix  was  unwilling  to  do  his  part  of  the 
business  until  the  festival  at  Anagnia  brought  him  and  his 
band  through  Praeneste,  and  this  festival  had  been  postponed. 
Consequently,  the  projected  murder  had  been  postponed  a  few 
days  also.  Agias  had  tried  to  penetrate  into  the  secrets  of 
Pratinas,  but  found  that  judicious  intriguer  had,  as  a  rule, 
carefully  covered  his  tracks.  He  spent  a  good  deal  of  time 
and  money,  which  Cornelia  gave  him,  trying  to  corrupt  some 
of  the  gladiators  of  Dumnorix's  band  and  get  at  the  intentions 
of  their  master;  but  he  was  not  able  to  find  that  any  of  these 


132 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


i 


wretches,  who  took  his  gold  greedily  enough,  really  knew  in 
the  least  what  were  the  appointments  and  engagements  of  the 
Gallic  giant.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  boy  began  to  feel 
decidedly  discouraged.  Pisander  had  nothing  more  to  tell ; 
and,  moreover,  the  worthy  philosopher  often  gave  such  con- 
tradictory accounts  of  what  he  had  overheard  in  Valeria's 
boudoir,  that  Agias  was  at  his  wit's  end  when  and  where  to 
begin. 

So  passed  the  rest  of  the  month  since  Cornelia  had  been 
brought  from  Praeneste  to  Rome. 

Ill 

Cornelia  began  to  grow  sick  at  heart.  The  conviction  was 
stealing  over  her  that  she  was  the  victim  of  a  cruel  destiny, 
and  it  was  useless  to  fight  against  fate.  She  had  made  sacri- 
fices for  Drusus's  sake  that  had  cost  her  infinitely.  All  Rome 
said  that  Cornelia  returned  the  love  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus. 
And  with  it  all,  she  knew  that  she  had  not  succeeded  in  dis- 
covering the  real  plot  of  Pratinas,  and  could  not  thwart  it. 
She  knew  that  nearly  every  one  placed  her,  if  actually  not  as 
vicious  as  the  rest,  at  least  in  the  same  coterie  with  Clodia, 
and  the  wife  of  Lentulus  Spinther  the  younger  Metella,  and 
only  a  grade  setter  than  such  a  woman  as  Arbuscula,  the 
reigning  actress  of  the  day.  There  was  no  defence  to  offer  to 
the  world.  Did  she  not  go  with  her  mother  to  the  gay  gather- 
ing, in  the  gardens  by  the  Tiber  ?  Was  she  not  waited  on  by 
half  the  fashionable  young  aristocrats  of  Rome?  Was  she 
not  affianced  to  a  man  who  was  notoriously  a  leader  of  what 
might  to-day  be  called  the  "  fast  set "  of  the  capital  ?  And 
from  Drusus,  poor  fellow,  she  gained  not  the  least  consolation. 
That  he  loved  her  as  she  loved  him,  she  had  never  cause  to 


ALIAS'S  ADVENTURE 


133 


doubt.    But  in  his  self-renunciation  he  gave  her  advice  that 
sprang  out  of  his  own  sorrow  and  pessimism.     It  was  no  use, 
ran  his  letters,  for  a  woman  like  her  to  try  and  battle  against 
the  evident  decrees  of  Fortune.    He  was  a  man,  and  must  fight 
his  battle  or  die  his  death  bravely ;    but  she  was  not  called 
on  for  this.    There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  really 
enjoy  herself,  in  the  way  most  of  the  world  thought  she  was 
enjoying  herself.    She  had  better  wed  Lucius  Ahenobarbus, 
and  stoop  to  the  inevitable.    Her  husband  could  go  his  way 
and  she  go  hers,  and  none  would  complain.    Perhaps  the  Epi- 
cureans were  right,  — this  life  was  all,  and  it  was  best  to  suck 
from  it  all  the  sweets  one  might,  and  not  be  disturbed  by 
pricks  of  conscience.     Drusus  and  Cornelia  were  not  lovers  of 
a  modern  romance,  to  entertain  fantastic  ideas  of  love  and 
duty,  to  tlirow  themselves  away  for  a  fancy,  or  tie  themselves 
with  vows  which  militated   against  almost    every  worldly 
advantage.    They  were  both  Romans,  and  by  that  we  mean 
eminently  practical  persons,  faithful  to  one  another,  pure  and 
noble  in  their  affections,  but  habituated  to  look  a  situation  in 
the  face  and  accept  the  plain  consequences.     In  this  spirit 
Drusus  had  advised  as  he  did,  and  Cornelia  became  discour- 
aged accordingly.     Her  reason  told  her  to  submit  to  the 
inevitable.     Her  heart  cried  out  against  it.    And  so  she  con- 
tinued to  finger  the  hilt  of  the  little  dagger,  and  look  at  its 
keen  poison-smeared  edge. 

But  one  day  at  the  end  of  this  dreary  period  Agias  appeared 
before  his  mistress  with  a  smiling  face. 

"  Don't  raise  high  hopes,  my  lady,  but  trust  me.  I  have 
struck  a  path  that  I'm  sure  Pratinas  will  wish  I'd  never 
travelled."  And  that  was  all  he  would  say,  but  laid  his 
finger  on  his  lips  as  though  it  was  a  great  secret.  When  he 
was  gone,  for  Cornelia  the  sun  shone  brighter,  and  the  tin- 


134 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


kling  of  the  water  in  the  fountain  in  the  peristylium  sounded 
sweeter  than  before.  After  all,  there  had  come  a  gleam  of 
hope. 

Cornelia  needed  the  encouragement.  That  same  day  when 
Herennia  called  to  see  her,  that  excellent  young  lady  —  for 
not  the  least  reason  in  the  world — had  been  full  of  stories  of 
poisoning  and  murders,  how  some  years  ago  a  certain  Bal- 
butius  of  Larinum  was  taken  off,  it  was  said,  at  a  wedding 
feast  of  a  friend  for  whom  the  poison  had  been  intended; 
and  then  again  she  had  to  tell  how,  at  another  time,  poison 
had  been  put  in  a  bit  of  bread  of  which  the  victim  partook. 
The  stories  were  old  ones  and  perhaps  nothing  more  than  sec- 
ond-hand scandal,  but  they  were  enough  to  make  poor  Cornelia 
miserable;  so  she  was  doubly  rejoiced  when  Agias  that  evening 
pressed  his  lips  again  and  smiled  and  said  briefly :  "  All  is 
going  well.  We  shall  have  the  root  of  the  matter  in  a  few 
days." 

Agias  had  actuary  come  upon  what  he  was  right  in  consid- 
ering a  great  piece  of  good  fortune.  He  had  easily  found  the 
tenement  in  the  Subura  where  Pratinas  lodged,  but  to  learn 
anything  there  that  would  be  useful  was  a  far  more  diflRcult 
affair.  He  had  hung  around  the  place,  however,  as  much  as 
he  dared,  making  his  headquarters  at  a  tavern  conveniently 
near,  and  tried  to  learn  Pratinas's  habits,  and  whether  he 
ever  took  any  visitors  home  with  him.  All  this  came  to 
little  purpose  till  one  morning  he  observed  an  old  Ethiop, 
who  was  tugging  a  heavy  provision  basket,  stagger  up  the 
street,  through  the  nondescript  crowd.  The  old  slave  was 
being  assailed  by  a  mob  of  street  gamins  and  low  pedlers 
who  saw  in  the  contents  of  the  hamper  so  much  fair  plun- 
der. These  vagabonds  had  just  thrown  the  Ethiop  down 
into  the  mud,  and  were  about  to  divide  their  booty,  when 


I 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE  135 

Agias,  acting  on  a  generous  impulse,  rushed  out  from  the 
tavern  to  the  rescue.  Nimble,  for  his  age  powerful,  and 
armed  with  a  stout  staff  which  he  had  caught  up  in  the 
wine-shop  to  aid  him,  the  young  Greek  won  an  ea^y  victory 
over  cowardly  antagonists,  put  all  the  plunderers  to  flight 
and  hfted  the  old  slave  out  of  the  mire.  The  Ethiop  fas 
profuse  m  his  thanks.  ^ 

l^'hf  f /fr  '^r  '''  ^"^'"  •^'"^""^^^  ^S^^'  ^«"  pleased 
to  be  out  of  the  adventure. 

"I'm  Sesostris,  servant  of  Pratinas  the  Greek." 
Agias  pricked  up  his  ears.     "  And  you  1  ive  —  " 
"In  the  top  story  of  this  tenement;"  and  Sesostris  tried 
to  pick  up  the  hamper. 

.."w'"ur^^"^  ^'"  ""'"'''''  "y°^  °^"«*  1«*  ^^  save  you 
that  trouble  I  will  carry  up  the  basket.  Your  master  is 
a  L.  dte  to  pile  on  such  loads." 

Sesostris   again   fawned   his  gratitude,   and    Agias,   with 
quickened  wits  and  eyes  alert,  toiled  up  the  dark  stairway, 
and  found  himself  at  the  top  of  the  building.     He  had  "  entered 
he  enemy's  country."    The  Ethiop  might  not  have  been  open 
to  bribes,  but  he  might  be  unlocked  through  friendship,  and 
Agiaa  never  needed  all  his  senses  more  than  now.     They  had 
reached  the  topmost  flight  of  stairs,  and  Sesostris  had  stopped 
as  If  embarrassed  whether  to  invite  his  deliverer  in  to  enioy 
some  hospitality,  or  say  him  farewell.     Then  of  a  sudden  from 
behind  the  closed  door  came  a  clear,  sweet,  girlish  voice, 
singing,  m  Greek:—  ' 

"  0  Aitne,  mother  mine :    A  grotto  fair 

Scooped  in  the  rocks  iiave  I,  and  there  I  keep 
All  that  m  dreams  man  pictures  1    Treasured  there 
Are  multitudes  of  she-goats  and  of  sheep, 
Swathed  in  whose  wool  from  top  to  toe  I  sleep  " 


I 
I 


•  5 


136 


A  FRIEND  OF  C.^SAR 


li! 
ii! 


It  was  an  idyl  of  Theocritus,  very  well  known  by  Agias, 
and  without  the  least  hesitation  he  took  up  the  stiain,  and 
continued :  — 

"  The  fire  boils  my  pot ;  with  oak  or  beech 

Is  piled, — dry  beech  logs  when  the  snow  lies  deep. 
And  storm  and  sunshine,  I  disdain  them  each 
As  toothless  sires  a  nut,  when  broth  is  in  their  reach."  i 

Agias  paused.  There  was  a  silence,  then  a  giggle  behind  the 
door,  and  it  half  opened,  and  out  peered  the  plump  and  rosy 
fact  of  the  young  girl  we  have  heard  Pratinas  salute  as  his 
niece,  Artemisia.  The  moment  she  caught  sight  of  the  rather 
manly  form  of  Agias,  the  door  started  to  close  with  a  slam, 
but  the  latter  thrust  out  his  foot,  blocked  the  door,  and  forced 
an  entrance. 

"Eleleu!"  cried  Agias,  pushing  into  a  small  but  neatly 
furnished  room.  "What  have  we  here?  Do  the  muses  sing 
in  Subura  ?  Has  Sappho  '  rought  hither  her  college  of  poet- 
esses from  Lesbos?" 

"Ail"  exclaimed  Artemisia,  drawing  back,  "who  are  you? 
You're  dreadfully  rude.     I  never  saw  you  before." 

"Nor  I  you; "  replied  Agias,  in  capital  good  humour,  "but 
that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  take  my  eyes  away  from  your 
pretty  little  face.  No,  you  needn't  point  your  middle  finger 
at  me  so,  to  ward  off  the  evil  eye.  I'm  neither  Chaldean 
astrologer,  nor  Etruscan  soothsayer.  Come,  tell  me  who  you 
are,  and  whom  you  belong  to  ?  " 

Artemisia  did  not  have  the  least  idea  what  to  say.  Agias, 
partly  through  youthful  love  of  adventure,  partly  because  he 
felt  that,  he  was  playing  now  for  very  high  stakes  and  must 
risk  a  good  deal,  had  thrown  himself  on  the  divan,  and  was 
holding  Artemisia  captive  under  his  keen,  genial  eyes.     She 

1  Calverly'i  translation. 


AGIAS^a  ADVENTURE  137 

grew  redder  in  faca  than  before,  began  to  speak,  then  broke 
off  with  more  confused  blushes. 

"She  means  to  say,"  finally  ventured  Sesostris,  "that  she 
is  Artemisia,  the  niece  of  Pratinas." 

"The  niece  of  Pratinas! "  exclaimed  Agias,  settling  himself 
upon  the  cushions  in  a  manner  that  indicated  his  intention  to 
make  a  prolonged  stay  ;  "and  does  Pratinas  keep  his  pretty 
niece  shut  up  in  a  gloomy  tenement,  when  she  has  the  voice 
of  one  of  the  Graces,  and  more  than  their  share  of  beauty' 
Shame  on  him;  I  thought  he  had  better  sense  than  that! " 

"Sir,"  ventured  Artemisia,  trying  desperately  to  stand  on 
her  dignity,  "I  do  not  know  you.  My  uncle  will  be  greatly 
vexed  to  find  you  here.     Will  you  go  away  a^  once?  " 

"That  I  will  not,"  replied  Agias,  firmly;  and  he  drew 
from  the  hamper  a  baker's  bun,  and  began  to  munch  it,  as 
though  laying  m  provision  for  a  lengtliy  stay. 

Artemisia  and  Sesostris  exchanged  glances  of  dismay 

"What  shall  I  do?"  said  the  girl  to  the  Ethiop  in  a  very 
audible  whisper. 

"Sing,"  interrupted  Agias.  "Let  me  hear  the  rest  of  the 
Theocritus." 

''I  don't  like  to  sing  those  songs,"  objected  Artemisia. 
Pratinas  makes  me,  I  don't  know  why." 

"Well,"  said  Agias,  smiling,  "I  wouldn't  for  the  world 
make  you  sing  against  your  will.  Suppose  you  tell  me  about 
yourself.  Tell  me  when  you)  c:ncle  is  away,  and  when  I  may 
come  and  see  you  again." 

"He's  away  nearly  all  the  time,"  said  Artemisia,  very  in- 
cautiously.  "But  tvho  are  you?  Why  do  you  want  to  come 
and  see  me?" 

"Why  do  I  want  to  look  at  a  flower?  Why  do  I  want  to 
hear  the  nightingale  sing?    Why  do  I  like  a  cup  of  good 


138 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


wine?"  laughed  Agias.  "Then,  fair  mistress,  you  may  look 
for  my  answer  when  you  have  answered  all  of  these  questions 
of  mine." 

"I  don't  see  what  you  mean,"  said  poor  Artemisia,  looking 
dreadfully  puzzled. 

"  I  mean,"  exclaimed  the  other,  "  what  Sappho  meant  of  the 
bride,  — 

"  •  She  like  an  apple  turned  red ;  which  reddens  far  up  on  the  tree-top :  — 
Upon  the  topmost  of  boughs,  —  the  gatherers  they  have  quite  missed  it. 
Yen,  they  saw  it  indeed ;  but  too  high  to  dare  tiy  to  pluck  it.' 


Only  I,  if  you  don't  greatly  mind,  will  be  the  bold  tree- 
climber  and  pluck  the  apple." 

"But  I  do  mind,"  cried  Artemisia,  all  blushes,  and  spring 
ing  a  little  back.     Old  Sesostris  looked  alarmed. 

"You  —  you  mean  the  girl  no  ill?"  he  faltered. 

Agias  looked  from  the  innocent  little  thing  over  to  the 
Ethiop,  snapped  his  finger,  and  replied :  — 

"111?  I  am  not  a  human  wolf,  v.  king  pretty  objects  like 
this  my  prey !  "  Then,  choosing  \  moment  carefully,  by  a 
quick  turn  he  confronted  Sesostr  sternly,  and  almost  thun- 
dered: "  You  speak  of  my  doing  ill  to  this  maiden?  You 
speak  —  the  slave  of  Pratinas,  who  is  the  leader  in  every  vice 
and  wild  prank  in  Rome !  Has  the  slave  as  well  as  the  master 
learned  to  play  the  hypocrite?  Do  you  want  to  be  tortured 
into  confessing  your  part  in  all  your  master's  crimes  when  the 
hour  of  reckoning  comes  and  he  is  brought  to  justice.  A!  A!  " 
.•e  went  on,  seeing  that  Sesostris  was  rolling  the  whites  of  his 
eyes,  and  was  trembling  in  every  limb,  "you  know  for  a  cer- 
tainty how  and  when  Pratinas  is  to  have  Quintus  Drusus 
killed!  Don't  deny  it.  You  will  soon  be  in  the  meshes. 
Don't  hope  to  escape.     If  murder  comes  to  Drusus  he  may 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE 


139 


he  has  friends  who   will   fearfully  avenge  his 


perish,   but 
death." 

"  Mercy !  Mercy ! "  howled  the  Ethiop,  falling  on  his  knees 
and  clutching  at  the  young  Greek's  robe,  "I  know  very  little 
of  the  plot.     I  only  know  —  " 

"Don't  equivocate,"  thundered  Agias.  "If  I  had  known 
the  kind  of  man  you  were,  I  would  hardly  have  saved  you 
from  those  street  ruffians.  You  don't  deserve  to  live.  Well, 
the  crows  will  soon  have  you!  You  Egyptians  believe  in  a 
judgment  of  the  dead;  what  defence  can  you  make  before  the 
court  of  Osiris  1  for  being  privy  to  a  foul  murder?  You'll 
come  back  to  earth  as  a  fly,  or  a  toad,  or  a  dung-beetle,  to  pay 
the  penalty  for  your  sins." 

"Mercy,"  whined  Sesostris,  who  was  in  a  paroxysm  of 
fright.  "Indeed  I  am  innocent!  I  am  only  a  poor  slave !  I 
can't  help  knowing  what  Pratinas  is  doing;  but  how  can  I 
prevent  him?  Don't  look  at  me  so!  I  am  innocent  — 
innocent ! " 

"I  can  scarce  believe  you,"  said  Agias,  affecting  great 
reluctance  to  show  any  leniency.  "  Doubtless  you  are  steeped 
in  blood.  Still,  you  may  save  yourself  tliis  once.  Remember, 
you  are  known,  and  the  plans  of  Pratinas  against  Drusus 
are  partly  known.  We  know  about  Dumnorix,  and  Lucius 
Ahenobarbus,  and  —  " 

"Oh!"  cried  Sesostris,  as  though  a  hot  iron  had  touched 
him,  "  I  will  find  out  everything,  and  tell  you.  Indeed  I  will. 
Only  do  not  send  me  to  the  rack  or  crucify  me  if  my  master's 
plans  go  astray ! " 

"Well,"  said  Agias,  still  simulating  hesitancy,  "I  will 
report  to  my  superiors.  Perhaps  you  are  not  a  willing  accom- 
plice of  your  master.     In  that  case,  if  he  is  apprehended,  your 

1  The  Egyptian  judge  of  the  dead. 


140 


A  FRIEND  CF  C^SAR 


'i'i 


i« 


life  w:^l  doubtless  be  spared.  But  we  must  thwart  his  plok 
befo«  •  can  be  carried  out.  This  yoti  must  aid  us  to  do. 
'\\ .  '^n  will  Dumnorix  start  for  Praeneste?" 

/.,u.    Sesostris   quailed.     "I  don't  know,"  he  faltered, 

'Hn.rt  h.a  been  a  postponement.     Ther«  was  a  plan  that  if 

luusn     cine  to  the   city  he  was   to   be   lured  outside  the 

i.s,2  .il .:.'   'ate.    s 'f  going  to  some  villa,  and  murdered  in  the 

8f<  la  pile,  a-       ,     „een  many  people," 

'Jut  this  plan  has  been  given  up?     Speak  the   truth!" 
shi  rply  (If.-ia  ided  Agias. 

•  Fe?;  fo,  j>rusu8  will  not  stir  from  Prseneste.  So  there 
the  scheme  must  be  executed,  as  originally  arranged." 

"And  Dumnorix  will  go  soon?" 

"  I  think  in  a  few  days.     I  will  find  out." 

"As  you  love  your  own  life  do  so!  I  will  call  on  each  day 
at  this  hour.  If  Pratinas  is  at  home,  leave  some  bright  gar- 
ment outside  near  the  door,  that  I  may  not  stumble  on  him. 
Deceive  or  betray  me,  and  my  masters  will  take  a  terrible 
revenge  on  you;  for  you  haven't  the  least  idea  what  is  the 
power  of  the  men  Pratinas  has  for  enemies." 

Agias  turned  to  depart.     Then  to  Artemisia :  — 

"And  you,  my  pretty,— when  I  come  again,  I  will  try  tfl 
stay  longer,  and  make  you  feel  as  glad  to  see  Agias,  as  Agias 
will  be  to  see  Artemisia." 

Agias  was  descending  the  stairs,  when  Sesostris  called  him 
back  with  a  whisper. 

"You  are  a  dreadful  youth;  but  since  I  am  so  utte  W  in 
your  power,  hear  something  that  may  prove  that  I  am  not  a 
knave  at  heart.     You  have  a  fancy  to  the  girl? " 

••Certainly  1  have  eyes  for  her  face,  and  ears  for  her  sweet 
little  voice, "  said  Agias,  smiling. 

"Then  listen,"  went  on  the  Ethiop;   "I  care  for  the  dear 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE  i4j 

more  than  anything  else  in  the  world.     She  said  she  was 
Pratinas's  niece.     It  isn't  true.     She  is  a  slave-girl  he  picked 
up  when  very  little  at  Deles,  >  as  he  told  me,  though  I  doubt 
it.     He  took  a  fancy  to  her,  and  really  thought  of  adopting 
her.     Then  his  soul  became  so  set  on  money,  that  he  saw  she 
would  fetch  a  great  price  when  grr^wn;  and  sell  her  he  will. 
He  still  pretends  to  call  her  his  niece;  but  that  won't  be  for 
long.     He  is  teaching  her  to  sing,  to  add  to  her  value.     At 
But  my  old  heart  is  almost  breaking  for  her  suke.     M  ,  m. , .  ' 
and  Sesostris  puffed  his  groans  through  !iis  nostrils.     "Think 
of  it!     He  has  ai.  idea  to  sell  her  to  thr.t  rich  Roman.  Lucius 
Calatinus  — a.id  ti  en  I  doii't  dare  hint  what  will  be  lu-r  fate." 
"Culatimis!"  hissed  Agi...s,  concentrating  voluiu.-s  of  scorn 
into  a  word. 

"  You  know  him !  You  hate  him !  "  cried  Sesostri  «  Then 
by  Ammon-Ra,  by  Isis,  by  every  god  in  whom  you  l)elieve, 
save  my  darling  from  worse  than  death :  Do  that,  and  I  will 
(lie  for  you !  " 

Sesostris's  emotion  was  oo  genuine  u  be  a  mere  trap  for 
ensnaring  his  visitor;  and  Agias  in  tvirn  wa    stirred. 

•'Old  man,"  he  exclaimed,  sei.-inp  the  ,  .er's  hand,  "you 
and  I  have  suffered  much  from  evil  il  3ter^  Thank  the  gods, 
I  am  nosv  serving  one  I  love  -  :ubeit  unfortunate  enougli! 
But  we  have  a  common  right  ■>  punish  the  wrongdoers,  and 
earn  a  little  bit  of  happiu-ss  r  ourselves.  Come,  now!  If 
Artemisia  is  a  slave,  she  s  a  no  wise  above  me.  Let  me 
save  Drusus  from  Pratinat  aud  I  pledg.-  my  word  that  I  will 
save  Artemisia  from  m  and  his  nefarious  schemes,  — yes, 
and  you,  too.  If  Arte.u  si:  iik.,  s  me,  why  then  there  will  be 
perhaps  more  to  add  to  tiie  e  tory.  Come  —  I  am  your  friend, 
and  you,  mine." 

-  At  this  period  the    -p.-    slave  emporium  of  the  world. 


142 


A   FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


3' 

lllli 


im-. 


Sesostris  wrung  the  other's  hand.  The  honest  servant  was 
moved  too  much  to  speak.  His  heart  and  soul  had  been  bound 
up  in  Artemisia. 

"May  your  ^a*  stand  before  Osiris  justified! "  he  choked. 
"I  have  been  privy  to  many  a  (^ark  action,  until  I  used  to  try 
to  forget  the  day  when  I  must  answer  to  the  Judge  of  the 
Dead  for  every  deed  done  and  word  spoken.  But  I  could  not 
stifle  my  fear  for  the  only  dear  thing  in  the  world." 

Agias  went  away  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind.  He  had  every 
confidence  that  Sesostris  would  worm  out  of  Pratinas  the 
exact  details  of  the  plot,  and  put  the  conspirators  at  the 
mercy  of  Drusus  and  Mamercus. 


rii 


And  Agias  had  felt  there  was  good  reason  to  rejoice  in  his 
discovery  in  more  ways  than  one.  Especially  was  he  con- 
scious that  there  were  no  lips  as  red  and  as  merry,  no  cheeks 
as  rosy,  no  eyes  as  dancing,  no  chatter  as  sweet,  as  those  of 
Artemisia.  And  what  is  more,  he  rejoiced  to  believe  that 
that  young  lady  was  not  half  so  shy  of  him  as  at  first,  and 
was  as  anxious  to  see  him  as  he  to  see  her.  Thanks  to  due 
warnings  and  precautions,  Agias  never  stumbled  on  Pratinas, 
when  the  latter  was  at  his  lodgings.  The  time  he  dared  to 
stay  was  all  too  short  for  Artemisia.  She  was  always  telling 
how  lonesome  she  was  with  only  old  Sesostris  for  company, 
before  she  knew  Agias.  Once  when  the  latter  was  late  in 
his  daily  visit,  he  was  delighted  to  find  scribbled  on  the 
wall,  "Artemisia  to  her  Agias:  you  are  real  mean."  Agias 
hated  to  make  her  erase  it  lest  it  fall  under  Pratinas's 
eagle  eye. 

'  The  spiritual  double  which  belonged  tc  every  man  according  to  the  Egyp. 
tian  ideas. 


;  1 
i  i 


AGIAS'S  ADVEimrKE 


143 


Bnt  still  Sesostris  had  nothing  to  tell  about  the  plot  against 
i)rusus.  Some  days  passed.  Agias  began  to  grow  uneasy. 
Sesostris  had  represented  that  he  was  conversant  with  every- 
thing his  master  had  on  foot;  but  Pratinas  might  have  been 
more  discreet  than  to  unfold  all  his  affairs,  even  before  his 
servant;  and  then,  too,  there  was  always  the  possibility  that 
Sesostris  was  playing  fast  and  loose,  and  about  to  betray 
Agias  to  his  master.  So  the  latter  grew  disquieted,  and 
found  it  a  little  hard  to  preserve  the  character  of  cheerful 
mystery  which  he  simulated  to  Cornelia.  The  long-sought 
information  came  at  a  time  when  he  was  really  off  his  guard. 
Agias  had  been  visiting  Artemisia.  Sesostris  as  well  as  Prati- 
nas had  been  out ;  the  two  young  people  were  amusing  them- 
selves trying  to  teach  a  pet  magpie  to  speak,  when  the  Ethiop 
rushed  inl.j  the  room,  all  in  a  tremble  with  anxious  excite- 
ment. 

''A!  A!"  he  was  ejaculating.  «Up,  speed,  don't  delay! 
There's  murder  afoot ! " 

Agias  let  the  bird  slip  from  his  hands,  and  never  noticed 
that  it  fluttered  on  its  clipped  wings  around  the  room,  to  Arte- 
misia's infinite  dismay. 

"  What  ?    Is  the  plot  hatched  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  puffed  Sesostris,  great  beads  of  perspiration  on 
his  honest  face.  "  I  was  attending  Pratinas  when  he  met  Lucius 
Ahenobarbus  in  the  Forum.  They  veiled  their  talk,  but  I 
readily  caught  its  drift.  Dumnorix  went  yesterday  with  the 
pick  of  his  band  to  Anagnia  for  some  games.  To-morrow  he 
will  return  through  PrasLeste,  and  the  deed  will  be  done. 
Phaon,  Ahenobarbus's  freedman,  has  started  already  for  Pr»- 
ueste  to  spy  out  the  ground  and  be  ready  to  direct  Dumnorix 
where,  when,  and  how  to  find  Drusus.  Phaon  has  been  spying 
at  Praeneste,  and  is  the  dangerous  man  I" 


144 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


"  He  has  gone  ?  "  demanded  Agias. 
"  Gone,  early  this  morning ! " 

"Then,  — the  gods  reward  you  for  ycrr  news,  — I  am  gone 
too!" 

And  without  another  word  to  Artemisia  or  the  old  slave, 
Agias  had  rushed  out  into  the  street.     He  had  a  double  game 
to  play  — to  prevent  Phaon  from  ever  reaching  Praeneste,  and 
then  get  such  help  to  Drusus  as  would  enable  him  to  beat  off 
Dumnorix  and  his  gang.    For  Agias  felt  certain  that  the  hard- 
hitting Gaul  would  execute  his  part  of  the  bargain,  whether  he 
met  Phaon  or  not,  and  afterward  look  into  the  consequences 
of  what  — unmitigated  by  the  freedman's /Hesse—  would  take 
the  form  of  an  open  clumsy  murder.     But  Phaon  had  started 
that  morning ;  and  it  was  now  well  into  the  afternoon.    Time 
was  dangerously  scanty.    Cornelia  he  ielt  he  should  inform ; 
but  she  could  do  nothing  really  to  help  him.     He  turned  his 
steps  toward  the  Forum  and  the  Atrium  Vestse.    He  had  some 
difficulty  in  inducing  the  porter  to  summon  Fabia,  to  meet  in 
personal  interview  a  mere  slave,  but  a  gratuity  won  the  point; 
and  a  minute  later  he  was  relating  the  whole  story  and  the 
present  situation  of  Drusus  to  Fabia,  with  a  sincere  directness 
that  carried  conviction  with  it.     She  had  known  that  Drusus 
had  enemies ;  but  now  her  whole  strong  nature  was  stirred  at 
the  sense  of  her  nephew's  imminent  peril. 

"If  you  wero  a  freeman,  Agias,"  were  her  words,  "and  could 
give  witness  as  such,  Pratinas  and  Ahenobarbus  —  high  as  the 
latter  is  — should  know  that  my  influence  at  the  law  outweighs 
theirs.  But  they  shall  be  thwarted.  I  will  go  to  Marcellus 
the  consul,  and  demand  that  troops  be  started  to  Prseneste 
to-night    But  you  must  go  after  Phaon." 

"  You  will  send  word  to  Cornelia  ?  "  requested  Agias. 

"  Yes,"  said  Fabia,  « but  not  now;  it  is  useless.    Here  is  an 


AGIAS'S  ADVENTURE  145 

order  on  Gallus,  who  keeps  a  livery-stable  •  by  the  Porta  Esqui- 
Jina.  He  will  give  you  my  new  white  Numidian,  that  I  keep 
with  him.  Ride  as  you  have  never  ridden  before.  And  here 
is  money.  Twenty  gold  philippi  in  this  bag.  Bribe,  do  any. 
thing.     Only  save  Drusus !     Now  go ! " 

"Farewell,  lady,"  cried  Agias,  "may  I  redeem  the  debt  of 
gratitude  I  owe  you ! " 

Fabia  stood  looking  after  him,  as  he  hastened  out  from  the 
quiet  atrium  into  the  busy  street.  Little  Livia  had  cuddled  up 
beside  her  aunt. 

«  Oh,  Livia,"  said  Fabia,  « I  feel  as  though  it  were  of  no  use 
to  live  good  and  pure  in  this  world !  Who  knows  what  trouble 
may  come  to  me  from  this  day's  doings?  And  why  should 
they  plot  against  your  brother's  dear  life  ?  But  I  mustn't  talk 
so."    And  she  called  for  her  attendants  to  escort  her  abroad. 

K  !,  fu*"/*  ^''^''^"s'l^ei.ts  were  common  near  the  gates,  and  the  Vestals  often 
bad  their  horses  at  such  places. 


liliiji 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"WHEN  OBBEK   MEETS  GREEK ' 


Cornelia  had  surmised  correctly  that  Pratinas,  not  Lucius 
Ahenobarbus,  would  be  the  one  to  bring  the  plot  against  Diusus 
to  an  iosue.    Lucius  had  tried  in  vain  to  escape  from  the  snares 
the  wily  intriguer  had  cast  about  him.     His  father  had  told 
him  that  if  he  would  settle  down  and  lead  a  moderately  respec- 
table life,  Phormio  should  be  paid  off.     And  with  this  burden 
off  his  mind,  for  reformation  was  very  easily  promised,  Lucius 
had  time  to  consider  whether  it  was  worth  his  while  to  mix  in 
a  deed  that  none  of  Pratinas's  casuistry  could  quite  convince  him 
was  not  a  foul,  unprovoked  murder,  of  an  innocent  man.     The 
truth  was,  Ahenobarbus  was  desperately  in  love  with  Cornelia, 
and  had  neither  time  nor  desire  to  mingle  in  any  business  not 
connected  with  the  pursuit  of  his  "  tender  passion."    None  of 
his  former  sweethearts  —  and  he  had  had  almost  as  many  as 
he  was  years  old  —  were  comparable  in  his  eyes  to  her.     She 
belonged  to  a  different  world  from  that  of  the  Spanish  dancers, 
the  saucy  maidens  of  Greece,  or  even  the  many  noble-born 
Roman  women  that  seemed  caught  in  the  eddy  of  Clodia's 
fashionable  whirlpool.     Lucius  frankly  told  himself  that  he 
would  want  to  be  divorced  from  Cornelia  in  five  years  — it 
would  be  tedious  to  keep  company  longer  with  a  goddess.    But 
for  the  present  her  vivacity,  her  wit,  her  bright  intelligence, 

146 


"WHEN  GKEEK  MEETS  GREEK" 


147 


no  less  than  her  beauty,  charmed  him.  And  he  was  rejoiced 
to  believe  that  she  was  quite  as  much  ensnared  by  his  own 
attractions.  He  did  not  want  any  unhappy  accident  to  mar 
the  smooth  course  which  was  to  lead  up  to  the  marriage  in  no 
distant  future.  He  did  not  need  Drusus's  money  any  longer  to 
save  him  from  bankruptcy.  The  legacy  would  be  highly  desir- 
able,  but  life  would  be  very  pleasant  without  it.  Lucius  was 
almost  induced  by  his  inward  qualms  to  tell  Pratinas  to  throw 
over  the  whole  matter,  and  inform  Dumnorix  that  his  services 
were  not  needed. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Cornelia  committed  an  error, 
the  full  consequences  of  which  were,  to  her,  happily  veiled. 
In  her  anxiety  to  discover  the  plot,  she  had  made  Lucius 
believe  that  she  was  really  pining  for  the  news  of  the  murder 
of  Drusus.  Cornelia  had  actually  learned  nothing  by  a  sac- 
rifice that  tore  her  very  heart  out;  but  her  words  and  actions 
did  almost  irreparable  harm  to  the  cause  she  was  trying  to 
aid. 

"  And  you  have  never  given  me  a  kiss,"  Lucius  had  said 
one  morning,  when  he  was  taking  leave  of  Cornelia  in 
the  atrium  of  the  Leutuli.  "  Will  you  ever  play  the  siren, 
and  lure  me  to  you  ?  and  then  devour,  as  it  were,  your  victim, 
not  with  your  lips,  but  with  your  eyes  ?  " 

"Ehol  Not  so  bold!"  replied  Cornelia,  draw  j;  back. 
"  How  can  I  give  you  what  you  wish,  unless  I  am  safe  from 
that  awful  Polyphemus  up  in  Praeneste  ?  " 

■\^Tien  Ahenobarbus  went  away,  his  thoughts  were  to  the 
following  effect:  "I  had  always  thought  Cornelia  different 
from  most  women ;  but  now  I  can  see  that,  like  them  all,  she 
hates  and  hates.  To  say  to  her,  '  Drusus  is  dead,'  will  be  a 
more  grateful  present  than  the  largest  diamond  Lucullus 
brought  from  the  East,  from  the  treasure  of  King  Tigranes." 


148 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


And  it  was  in  such  a  frame  of  mind  that  he  met  Pratinas 
by  appointment  at  a  low  tavern  on  the  Vicus  Tuscus.  The 
Greek  was,  as  ever,  smiling  and  plausible. 

"  Congratulations  !  "  was  his  greeting.  « Dumnorix  has 
already  started.  He  has  my  orders ;  and  now  I  must  borrow 
your  excellent  freedman,  Phaon,  to  go  to  Praeneste  and  spy 
out,  for  the  last  time,  the  land,  and  general  our  army.  Let 
him  start  early  to-morrow  morning.  The  time  is  ample,  and 
unless  some  malevolent  demon  hinder  us,  there  will  be  no 
failure.  I  have  had  a  watch  kept  over  the  Drusus  estate. 
An  old  sentry  of  a  steward,  Mamercus,  —  so  I  learn,  —  has 
been  afraid,  evidently,  of  some  foul  play  on  the  part  of  the 
consul-designate,  and  has  stationed  a  few  armed  freedmen 
on  guard.  Drusus  himself  keeps  very  carefully  on  his  own 
premises.  This  is  all  the  better  for  us.  Dumnorix  will  dis- 
pose of  the  freedmen  in  a  hurry,  and  our  man  will  be  in  wait- 
ing there  just  for  the  gladiators.  Phaon  will  visit  him  —  cook 
up  some  errand,  and  inveigle  him,  if  possible,  well  out  in  the 
colonnade  in  front  of  the  house,  before  Dumnorix  and  his 
band  pass  by.  Then  there  will  be  that  very  deplorable 
scuffle,  and  its  sad,  sad  results.  Alas,  poor  Drusus !  Another 
noble  Livian  gathered  to  his  fathers ! " 

"  I  don't  feel  very  merry  about  it,"  ventured  Lucius.  "  I 
don't  need  Drusus's  money  as  much  as  I  did.  If  it  wasn't  for 
Cornelia,  I  would  drop  it  all,  even  now.  Sometimes  I  feel 
there  are  avenging  Furies  —  Dine,  we  Latins  call  them  — 
haunting  me." 

Pratinas  laughed  incredulously.  «  Surely,  my  dear  fellow," 
he  began,  "you  don't  need  to  have  the  old  superstitions 
explained  away  again,  do  j'ou  ?  " 

"No,  no,"  was  his  answer;  Lucius  capitulating  another 
time. 


"WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK"  149 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Pratinas  had  an  interview  with 
Phaon,  Lucius's  freedman,  a  sleek,  well-oiled  Sicilian  Greek 
who  wore  his  hair  very  long  to  cover  the  holes  bored  in  his 
ears -the  mark  of  old-time  servitude.    He  was  the  darling 
of  waitmg-maids;  the  collector  of  all  current  scandal;   the 
master  spirit  in  arranging  dinners,  able  to  tell  a  Tuscan  from 
a  Lucanian  boar  by  mere  taste.     He  used  also  to  help  his 
patron  compose  billeMoux,  and   had,  by  his  twistings  and 
scrapings,  repeatedly  staved  off   Phormio,   Lucius's    impor- 
tunate creditor.     As  for  Phaon's  heart,  it  was  so  soft  and 
tender  that  the  pricks  of  conscience,  if  he  ever  had  any,  went 
straight  through,  without  leaving  a  trace  behind.    And  when 
Pratinas  now  informed  him  as  to  his  final  duties  at  Prsneste, 
Phaon  rubbed  his  beringed  hands  and  smoothed  his  carefully 
scraped  chin  with  ill-concealed  satisfaction. 

"And  a  word  more  in  closing,"  said  Pratinas,  as  he  parted 
with  Phaon  in  the  tavern -while  Lucius,   who  had   been 
drinking  very  heavily,  nodded  stupidly  over  his   goblet  of 
amber    Falernian,  in  a  vain    attempt  to  gulp  down    eight 
tyathi  at  once,  one  measure  to  each  letter  in  the  name  of 
Cornelia -«a   word    more.      Dumnorix    is   a  thick-skulled 
knave,  who  is,  after  all,  good  for  little  but  blows.     I  have 
made  an  arrangement  which  will  ensure  having  a  careful 
man  at  his  elbow  in  time  of  need.     You,  of  course,  will  have 
to  do  your  best  to  save  the  unfortunate  Quintus  from  inevita- 
ble fate.     But  I  have  asked  Publius  Gabinius  to  leave  for 
Praeneste  very  early  on  the  morning  when  Dumnorix  passes 
through  that  place.    Gabinius  has  a  small  villa  a  little  beyond 
the  town,  and  there  will  be  nothing  suspicious  in  a  journey  to 
visit  one's  country  house.     He  will  meet  Dumnorix,  and  be 
at  his  side  when  the   pinch  comes.     You  see?    He  is  an 
adventurous  fellow,  and  will  help  us  just  for  the  sake  of  the 


160 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAB 


mischief.  Besides,  I  believe  he  has  a  grndge  against  the 
Dnisian  family  as  a  whole,  for  he  lately  tried  to  pass  some 
familiarities  with  Fabia  the  Vestal,  Drusus's  aunt,  and  she 
proved  disgustingly  prudish." 

"And  how  much  will  you  and  I,"  said  Fhaon,  with  a  sly 
smirk,  «  gain  out  of  this  little  business,  if  all  goes  well  ?  Of 
course  one  should  help  one's  patron,  but  — " 

"It  is  folly  to  divide  the  spoils  of  Troy  before  Troy  is 
taken,"  laughed  Pratinas.  "Don't  be  alarmed,  my  good  fel- 
low. Your  excellent  patron  will  reward  us,  no  doubt,  amply." 
And  he  muttered  to  himself :  "  If  I  don't  bleed  that  Lucius 
Ahenobarbus,  that  Roman  donkey,  out  of  two-thirds  of  his 
new  fortune ;  if  I  don't  levy  blackmail  on  him  without  mercy 
when  he's  committed  himself,  and  becomes  a  partner  in  crime, 
I'm  no  fox  of  a  Hellene.  I  wonder  that  he  is  the  son  of  a  man 
like  Domitius,  who  was  so  shrewd  in  that  old  affair  with  me 
at  Antioch." 

*♦♦»♦♦♦♦♦# 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  next  morning,  long  before  Pra- 
tinas and  Ahenobarbus  met  in  the  Forum  and  reviewed  the 
steps  taken  in  the  words  that  gave  Sesostris  the  key  to  the 
situation,  Phaon  was  driving  toward  Prseneste.  Of  course  a 
mere  freedman,  on  a  journey  preferably  kept  quiet,  travelled 
in  not  the  least  state.  He  rode  alone,  but  had  borrowed  from 
his  patron  two  of  th-  se  small  but  speedy  Gallic  horses  called 
mammi,  that  whirled  his  gig  over  the  Campagna  at  a  rapid 
trot.  Still  there  was  no  great  call  for  '  iste.  He  wished  to 
get  to  Prseneste  about  dark,  and  there  .j  ,ke  a  few  inquiries 
PS  to  the  whereabouts  and  recent  doings  o.-.  Drusus.  Pratinas 
had  had  considerable  espionage  kept  up  over  his  intended 
victim,  and  the  last  results  of  this  detective  work  were  to  be 
reported  to  Phaon  by  th'   slaves  of  Ahenobarbus  performing 


"WHEN   GREEK  MEETS  GREEK"  ifii 

it.  Perhaps  there  would  be  no  real  harm  in  driving  straight 
through  to  Praeneste  in  the  open  daylight,  but  it  was  better 
not  to  show  himself  until  the  right  time.  So  it  was  that, 
halfway  on  the  road,  Phaon  turned  in  to  the  tavern  of  the 
decaying  little  town  of  Gabii,  gave  his  team  to  the  hostler 
and  rested  himself  by  fuming  over  the  squalor  and  poor  cook- 
ing of  the  inn. 

n 

Agias  secured  the  fast  Numidian  from  the  stables  of  Gallus 
and  was  soon  away.  His  frequent  journeys  between  Rome  and 
Praeneste,  in  service  of  Cornelia  and  Drusus,  made  him  a  fairly 
expert  rider,  and  his  noble  mount  went  pounding  past  the  mile- 
stones at  a  steady,  untiring  gallop.  The  young  Hellene  was 
all  tingling  with  excitement  and  expectation;  he  would  save 
Drusus;  he  would  send  the  roses  back  into  his  beloved  mis- 
tress's cheeks;  and  they  would  reward  him,  give  him  freedom; 
and  then  the  future  would  be  bright  indeed. 

But  it  grew  late,  fast  as  the  horse  bore  him.  He  felt  it  his 
duty  to  press  on  with  all  speed  to  Pr^neste.  He  had  still  a 
very  vague  notion  of  the  final  form  of  the  conspiracy,  espe- 
cially of  the  role  assigned  to  Phaon.  Of  one  thing  he  was 
certain:  to  intercept  Phaon  was  to  deprive  Dumnorix  of  an 
essential  ally;  but  how  to  intercept  the  wily  freedman  was 
nothing  easy. 

As  the  Numidian  swept  into  Gabii,  Agias  drew  rein,  telling 
himself  that  the  horse  would  make  better  speed  for  a  little 
rest  and  baiting.  The  tavern  court  into  which  he  rode  was  ex- 
ceedingly filthy;  the  whole  building  was  in  a  state  of  decav; 
the  odours  were  indescribable.  In  the  great  public-room'a 
carter  was  trolling  a  coarse  ditty,  while  through  the  doorway 
ran  a  screaming  serving-maid  to  escape  some  low  familiarity. 


152 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


A  shock-headed  boy  with  a  lantern  took  Agias's  bridle,  and 
the  Greek  alighted;  almost  under  his  eyes  the  dim  light  fell 
on  a  handsome,  two-horse  gig,  standing  beside  the  entrance 
to  the  court.     Agias  gave  the  vehicle  close  attention. 

"It  belongs  to  a  gentleman  from  Rome,  now  inside,"  ex- 
plained the  boy,  "one  horse  went  lame,  and  the  veterinary* 
is  coming."  Agias's  eye  caught  a  very  peculiar  bend  in  the 
hollow  in  the  neck-yoke.  He  had  seen  that  carriage  before, 
on  the  fashionable  boulevards  —  along  the  Tiber,  in  the  Campus 
Martins  —  the  carriage  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus.  Phaon  was 
waiting  in  the  tavern ! 

"Care  for  my  horse  at  once,"  remarked  Agias,  a  little 
abruptly.  "Time  presses."  And  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and 
leaving  the  boy  gaping  after  him,  went  into  the  squalid  public- 
room  of  the  tavern. 

The  landlord  of  the  establishment,  a  small,  red-faced, 
bustling  man,  was  fussing  over  some  lean  thrushes  roasting 
on  a  spit  before  the  open  fire  that  was  roaring  on  the  hearth. 
The  landlady,  lazy,  muscular,  corpulent,  and  high-voiced,  was 
expostulating  with  a  pedler  who  was  i:ying  to  slip  out  with- 
out settling.  Four  other  persons,  slaves  and  peasants,  were 
sitting  on  two  low  benches  beside  a  small,  circular  table,  and 
were  busy  pouring  down  the  liquor  which  a  young  serving-boy 
brought  them  in  tumbler-shaped  cups,  or  eating  greedily  at 
loaves  of  coarse  bread  which  they  snatched  from  the  table. 
It  was  so  late  that  little  light  came  into  the  room  from  the 
door  and  windows.  The  great  fire  tossed  its  red,  flickering 
glow  out  into  the  apartment  and  cast  a  rosy  halo  over  the 
hard  brown  marble  pavement  of  the  floor.  Upon  the  dingy 
walls  and  rafters  hung  from  pegs  flitches  of  bacon,  sausages, 
and  nets  of  vegetables.      Agias  stopped  in  the  doorway  and 

*  Mqxiaritu, 


"WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK"  153 

waited  till  his  eyes  were  fairly  accustomed  to  the  fire-light. 
Over  in  a  i-emote  corner  he  saw  a  lamp  gleaming,  and  thtre,* 
sprawling  on  a  bench,  beside  a  table  of  his  own,  well  piled 
with  food  and  drink,  he  distinguished  in  solitary  majesty 
Phaon  — too  exquisite  to  mingle  with  the  other  guests  of  the 
tavern. 

The  landlord  quickly  noticed  his  new  customer,  and  sprang 
up  from  the  fire.  Agias  had  on  a  coarse  grey  woollen  cloak 
over  his  light  tunic,  and  he  drew  his  hood  up  so  as  partly  to 
cover  his  face  as  he  stepped  into  the  room. 

"  Salve  1 "  was  the  landlord's  salutation.  "  What  hospitality 
can  the  Elephant  *  afford  you?  " 

The  good  host  did  not  think  Agias  anything  more  by  his 
dress  than  a  common  slave,  and  saw  no  need  of  excessive 
politeness. 

Agias  noticed  that  he  was  expected  to  join  the  other  drinkers 
around  the  centre  table. 

"£Ao,  mine  host!  "  cried  he,  letting  the  fire  give  one  glint  on 
a  gold  piece.  "Can't  you  give  me  a  seat  at  the  other  end  of 
the  room?  I  don't  know  these  good  people,  and  they  won't 
thank  me  for  thrusting  myself  on  them." 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  exclaimed  the  landlord,  all  conde- 
scension. "There  is  a  gentleman  from  Rome  drinking  by 
himself  at  that  table  over  there.     Perhaps  he  will  not  object. " 

Now  was  the  crisis.  Agias  had  seen  Phaon  many  times 
with  Lucius  Ahenobarbus;  but  he  was  reasonably  certain  that 
the  freedman  had  never  degraded  himself  by  taking  any  notice 
of  the  numerous  slaves  of  Lentulus's  household.  Witliout 
waiting  for  the  host  to  continue,  he  ha.stencd  over  to  the 
farther  table,  and  exclaimed  with  all  the  effrontery  at  his 
command:  — 

^  loiu  were  known  by  such  signs. 


154 


A  FRIEND   OF  CiESAR 


"Bern I  Phaon;  don't  you  remember  au  old  friend?" 

The  freedman  for  once  was  completely  off  his  guard.  He 
started  up,  stared  at  Agiaa,  and  began  to  mutter  excuses  for 
a  very  short  memory. 

"Well,  well,"  cried  Agias.  "You  have  a  poor  recollection 
of  faces!  Don't  you  remember  how  Pratinas  took  j.  u  to  the 
Big  Eagle  restaurant,  down  on  the  Vicus  Jugarius,  on  rhe  last 
Calends,  and  how  you  met  me  there,  and  what  rckmI  Lesbian 
and  Chian  wine  there  was?  None  of  your  weak,  sickening 
Italian  stuff!  Surely  you  remember  Cleombrotus,  from  whom 
you  won  four  hundred  sesterces." 

Phaon,  who  remembered  the  tavern,  a  visit,  and  winning 
four  hundred  sesterces  at  one  tim^  or  another,  tried  to  make 
himself  believe  that  he  won  them  from  a  young  man,  like  the 
one  before  him,  and  that  his  name  was  Cleombrotus. 

"  Um !  Yes,  of  course,"  he  faltered.  "  I'm  very  glad  to  see 
you.     What  brings  you  here?" 

"Business,  business,"  complained  Agias;  "my  master's  a 
grain  merchant  with  dealings  at  Puteoli,  and  he  has  sent  me 
thither,  to  make  some  payments."  Phaon  pricked  up  his  ears. 
"The  Via  Appia  is  more  direct,  but  there  is  less  chance  of 
robbers  by  the  Via  Praenestina." 

"  I  hope  your  master  can  trust  you  not  to  lighten  his  pouch 
on  the  way,"  remarked  Phaon. 

"Well,"  chuckled  Agias,  "he'll  have  to  take  his  risk.  If 
it's  lost  on  the  road,  why,  highwaymen  stripped  me.  It  is 
one  of  the  fortunes  of  trade."  Phaon  was  fully  convinced 
that  here  was  a  fine  chance  to  do  some  picking  on  his  own 
account. 

"Doubtless,"  he  began,  "you  are  not  in  such  haste  that  you 
cannot  enjoy  one  of  those  thrushes  that  sheep  of  a  landlord  is 
roasting  for  me.    Phuil    What  a  nasty  place  to  have  one's 


"WHEN   GREER    MEETS  GREEK 


1» 


horse  give  out  in.     You  will  give  me  at  least  a  little  company 
to  pass  the  time  ?  " 

Agias  affected  rehiotance;  then  as  the  host  brought  up  the 
birds,  savory  and  hut,  on  an  earthen  platter,  he  gracefully 
accepted  the  invitation.  The  thrushes  and  th«  rest  of  the  bill 
of  fare,  bacon,  sweet  nut-flavourel  oil,  bread,  and  the  cheap 
wine  of  th*^  Cam|):  t(na  were  not  unwelcome,  though  Phaon 
cursed  the  coarse  .>od  n.  mdly.  Then,  when  hunger  had 
begun  to  yield,  Phaon  sug^rested  that  Cleombrotus  "try  to 
secure  revenge  for  his  losses  on  the  Calends";  and  Agias, 
nothing  loth,  rf  plie<l  that  he  »lnl  not  wish  to  risk  a  great  sum: 
but  if  a  denarius  w.u  wc/rtii  playing  for,  there  was  no  objec- 
tion to  venturing  a  fo\  easts,  and  "he  would  'sk  the  host  to 
bring  them  ♦■he  gaming  implements." 

So  the  landlord  brought  dice  and  dire  boxes,  and  Phaon  — 
who  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  to  deal  with  a 
light-headed  bumpkin,  who  represented  merely  so  much  fair 
plunder  — began  to  play  with  a  careless  heart.  The  landlord 
brought  nore  and  more  flagons  of  wine,  wine  that  w 
with  little  water  and  was  consequently  very  iieas  Bi.i 

the  game  —  with  some  veering  of  fortune  —  went  the  f reed- 
man's  way.  He  won  a  denarius;  then  another;  then  a  third; 
lost  a  fourth  time;  won  back  everything  and  five  denarii  more; 
and  finally  his  opponent,  heated  «nth  play,  consented  to  stake 
two  gold  pieces. 

"  What  did  you  say  a  minute  ago  to  the  landlord?  "  muttered 
Phaon,  feeling  that  the  undiluted  liquor  was  getting  the  best 
of  him.  "This  wine  \s  very  strong.  It  makes  my  head 
ache." 

"Phyl"  retorted  Agias.  **  Who  complains  of  good  iquor? 
I  only  told  the  host  to  set  another  lamp  near  us.  Shall  we 
play  again?" 


IW 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


f 


"By  Zeus  I"  exclaimed  the  delighted  freedman.  "Here  I 
have  cast  four  'sixes'  once  more."  And  again  he  drained 
the  beaker. 

"  Vah!"  sniffed  Agias.  "Luck  will  turn  at  last.  Let  us 
play  for  real  stakes.  More  wine,  mine  host!  I  will  put  down 
ten  philippi.     This  will  be  worth  winning  or  losing." 

"As  you  say,"  gleefully  chuckled  Phaon,  tossing  the  gold 
on  the  table.  «  Yes,  more  wine,  I  say  too.  One  always  enjoys 
play  when  his  temples  are  all  athrob." 

Agias  quietly  reached  over,  took  up  his  opponent's  dice 
box,  and  rattled  it,  and  appeared  inspecting  and  fingering  the 
tali.^  "You  have  won  your  throws  fairly,"  he  said,  handing 
it  back.  "Now  let  us  invoke  the  decision  of  Fortune  once 
more.  A  libation  to  the  Genius  of  Good  Luck ! "  And  instead 
of  spilling  out  a  few  drops  only,  he  canted  the  flagon  too  far 
and  spattered  the  wine  on  to  the  floor. 

"  Heracles ! "  growled  Phaon,  "  what  a  poor  hazard !  I  have 
thrown  four  'ones ' !  " 

"  And  I  have  all ' fours '  aud  'sixes, ' "  cried  Agias,  in  delight, 
sweeping  the  money  toward  him. 

"The  gods  blast  my  luck,"  muttered  the  freedman,  "I  shall 
be  ruined  at  this  rate."  And  he  iwurod  down  more  liquor. 
"I  have  hardly  five  philippi  left." 

"Come,"  shouted  Agias,  jumping  up;  "I  make  a  fair  o^er. 
Your  five  philippi  against  all  my  winnings." 

Phaon  had  a  dim  consciousness  tliat  he  was  getting  very 
drunk,  that  he  ought  to  start  at  once  for  Praeneste,  and  that  it 
was  absolutely  needful  for  him  to  have  some  money  for  bribes 
and  gratuities  if  he  was  not  to  jeopardize  seriously  the  success 
of  his  undertaking.  But  Agias  stood  before  him  exultant  and 
provoking.     The  freedman  could  not  be  induced  to  confess  to 

1  Four-Hided  dic«. 


"WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK"  157 

himself  that  he  had  been  badly  fleeced  by  a  fellow  he  expected 
to  plunder  In  drunken  desperation  he  pulled  out  his  last 
gold  and  threw  it  on  the  table. 

"Play  for  that,  and  all  the  Furies  curse  me  if  I  lose  "  he 
stormed.  ' 

Agias  cast  two  "threes,"  two  "fours." 
"I  must  better  that,"  thundered  the  freedman,  slapping  the 
tall  out  on  to  the  table.  ff    b     ^ 

"'Ones'  again,"  roared  Agias,  "all  four  I  you  have 
lost!" 

Phaon  sprang  up  in  a  storm  of  anger,  and  struck  over  the 
dice.  Three  of  them  are  'sixes,'  "  he  raged.  "  I  have  won! 
You  got  loaded  dice  from  the  landlord,  just  now,  when  he 
brought  the  wine!" 

"Not  at  all,  you  cheating  scoundrel,"  retorted  Agias,  who 
had  already  scooped  in  the  money,  "  I  have  you  fairly  enough  " 
'Fair?"  shouted  Phaon,  dashing  down  the  dice  again, 
they  are  loaded!  Lack-.hame!  Villain!  Whipping-post! 
Tomb-robber!  Gallows-bird!  You  changed  them  when  you 
pretended  to  inspect  them !  Give  me  my  money,  thief,  or  -  " 
and  he  took  a  menacing  but  unsteady  step  toward  Agils. 

The  young  Greek  was  ready  for  the  emergency.  He  knew 
that  Phaon  was  almost  overcome  with  his  wine,  and  had  no 
dread  of  the  issue.  A  stroke  of  his  fist  sent  the  freedman  reel- 
ing back  against  the  wall,  all  the  wind  pounded  from  his  chest. 
You  born  blackguard,"  coughed  Phaon,  "I  won  it."  Agias 
was  reneving  the  attack,  when  the  landlord  interfered.  Seiz- 
ing both  of  the  gamesters  by  their  cloaks,  he  pushed  them  out 
a  side  door  into  the  court-yard.  "Out  with  you! "  cried  the 
host.  "Quarrel  without,  if  you  must!  This  is  no  place  for 
brawls. " 

Phaon  staggered  a  step  or  two  out  into  the  dark,  then  reeled 


i 


-'  II 


-    1 1 


158 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


and  fell  heavily  upon  the  dirty  pavement.  Agias  prodded  him 
with  his  foot,  but  he  was  quite  insensible.  For  the  present 
he  was  harmless  enough. 

"My  good  host,"  said  Agias,  to  the  disquieted  landlord,  "I 
did  not  ask  you  to  give  us  an  unmixed  wine  and  those  dice  for 
no  purpose.  This  excellent  gentleman  here  seems  sadly  in 
need  of  a  bed,  where  he  must  stay  for  some  time.  But  since 
I  have  won  every  sesterce  he  owns  I  must  needs  pay  for  his 
board.  Take  good  care  of  him,  and  here  are  six  philippi 
which  are  yours  on  condition  that  you  keep  him  quiet  until 
to-morrow  at  this  time,  and  suffer  no  one  coming  from  Rome 
to  see  him,  or  send  him  a  message.  To-morrow  evening  a 
messenger  from  Praeneste  will  oome  here,  and  if  your  guest 
is  still  safe  in  your  custody,  you  shall  have  six  more  gold 
pieces.  At  that  time,  doubtless,  you  can  let  him  go;  but  don't 
violate  my  orders,  or  —  " 

"Your  excellency  pays  like  a  senator,"  said  the  landlord, 
bowing,  as  he  f?".gercd  the  gold.  "  Trust  me  that  your  wishes 
shall  be  obeyed." 

"They  had  better  be,"  hinted  Agias.  "I  am  not  what  I 
seem  by  my  dress.  If  you  disobey,  fear  the  wrath  of  a  man 
before  whom  the  world  trembles ! " 

"He  must  be  an  agent  of  Caesar,  or  Pompeius,"  muttered 
the  landlord  to  himself.  And  Agias,  having  seen  two  serving- 
boys  tugging  Phaon's  prone  weight  away  to  a  secluded  hay- 
mow, called  for  his  refreshed  Numidiaii,  clattered  out  of  the 
filthy  court,  and  rode  away  into  the  night,  with  the  stars 
burning  above  him. 


I 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOW  OABINIUS  MET   WITH   A  BBBUPF 


PuBLius  Gabinius,  the  boon  comrade  of  Lucius  Aheno- 
barbus,  differed  little  from  many  another  man  of  his  age  in 
mode  of  life,  or  variety  of  aspirations.  He  had  run  through 
all  the  fashionable  excitements  of  the  day;  was  tired  of  horse- 
racing,  peacock  dinners,  Oriental  sweethearts;  tired  even  of 
dice.  And  of  late  he  had  begun  to  grow  morose,  and  his 
friends  commenced  to  think  him  rather  dull  company. 

But  for  some  days  he  had  found  a  new  object  of  interest. 
With  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  he  had  been  at  the  Circus  Flaminius, 
waiting  for  the  races  to  begin,  when  he  startled  his  friend  by 
a  clutch  on  the  arm. 

"Look!"  was  Gabinius's  exclamation.  "Is  she  not  beau- 
tiful?" 

He  pointed  to  where  Fabia,  the  Vestal,  was  taking  her  seat 
upon  a  cushion  placed  for  her  by  a  maid,  and  all  tlie  people 
around  were  standing,  very  respectfully,  until  she  was  seated 
The  priestess  was  clothed  in  perfect  white,— dress,  ribbons, 
fillet  — a  notable  contrast  to  the  brave  show  of  purple,  and 
scarlet,  and  blue  mantles  all  about  lier. 
^  "Beautiful?     Yes,"    repeated    Lucius,    rather   carelessly. 
"But  such  birds  are  not  for  our  net." 

"Are  not?"  repeated  Gabinius,  a  little  sharply.     "What 
wakes  you  so  sure  of  that?  " 

150 


160 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


:''  f  I 


"I  hardly  think  that  you  will  find  my  dear  friend  Quintus 
Drusus's  aunt,  for  so  I  understand  she  is,"  said  Ahenobarbus, 
"very  likely  to  reciprocate  your  devotion." 

"And  why  not?"  reiterated  Gabinius,  in  a  vexed  tone. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  answered  Lucius,  "I  won't  argue  with 
you.  There  are  plenty  of  women  in  Rome  quite  as  handsome 
as  Fabia,  and  much  younger,  who  will  smile  on  you.  Don't 
meddle  in  a  business  that  is  too  dangerous  to  be  profitable." 

But  Gabinius  had  been  wrought  up  to  a  pitch  of  amorous 
excitement,  from  which  Ahenobarbus  was  the  last  one  to  move 
him.  For  days  he  had  haunted  the  footsteps  of  the  Vestal; 
had  contrived  to  thrust  himself  as  near  to  her  in  the  theatre 
and  circus  as  possible;  had  bribed  cne  of  the  Temple  servants 
to  steal  for  him  a  small  panel  painting  of  Fabia;  had,  in  fact, 
poured  over  his  last  romance  all  the  ardour  and  passion  of  an 
intense,  violent,  uncontrolled  nature.  Gabinius  was  not  the 
kind  of  a  man  either  to  analyze  his  motives,  or  express  him- 
self in  the  sobbing  lyrics  of  a  Catullus.  He  was  thrilled  with 
a  fierce  passion,  and  knew  it,  and  it  only.  Therefore  he 
merely  replied  to  Lucius  Ahenobarbus : 

"  I  can't  help  myself.  What  does  Terence  say  about  a  like 
case?  '  This  indeed  can,  to  some  degree,  be  endured;  night, 
passion,  liquor,  young  blood,  urged  him  on;  it's  only  human 
nature."" 

And  all  the  afternoon,  while  the  chariots  ran,  and  wager 
on  wager  marked  the  excitement  of  the  cloud  of  spectators, 
Gabinius  had  only  eyes  for  one  object,  Fabia,  who,  perfectly 
unconscious  of  his  state  of  fascination,  sat  witli  flushed  cheeks 
and  bright,  eager  eyes,  watching  the  fortunes  of  the  races,  or 
turned  now  and  then  to  speak  a  few  words  to  little  Livia,  v.'ho 
was  at  her  side.     When  the  games  were  over,  Gabinius  strug- 

» Terence,  "  Adelphuj,"  467  and  471. 


HOW  GABINIUS  MET  WITH  A  REBUFF     161 

gled  through  the  crowd  after  the  Vestal,  and  kept  near  to  her 
aatil  she  had  reached  her  litter  and  the  eight  redliveried 
Cappadocian  porters  bore  her  away.  Cxabinius  continued  to 
gaze  after  her  until  Fabia  drew  the  leather  curtains  of  her 
conveyance  and  was  hid  from  sight. 

^^Perpoll-  reflected  Gabinius.     "How  utterly  enslaved  1 
am!" 


The  following  morning  Fabia  received  a  letter  in  a  strange 
hand,  asking  her  to  come  to  a  villa  outside  the  Porta  Capena, 
and  receive  a  will  from  one  Titus  Denter,  who  lay  dying 
The  receiving  and  safe-keeping  of  wills  was  a  regular  duty  of 
Vestals,  and  Fabia  at  once  summoned  her  litter,  and  started 
out  of  the  city,  along  the  Via  Appia,  until,  far  out  in  the  sub- 
urbs where  the  houses  were  wide  apart,  she  was  set  down 
before  the  country-house  indicated.    A  stupid-appearing  slave- 
boy  received  her  at  the  gateway.    The  villa  was  old,  small,  and 
in  very  indifferent  repair.    The  slave  could  not  seem  to  explain 
whether  it  had  been  occupied  of  late,  but  hastened  to  declare 
that  his  master  lay  nigh  to  death.     There  was  no  porter  in 
the  outer  vestibule.*    The  heavy  inner  door  turned  slowly  on 
Its  pivot,  by  some  inside  force,  and  disclosed  a  small,  darkened 
atrium,  only  lighted  by  a  clear  sunbeam  from  the  opening 
above,  that  passed  through  and  illumincl  a  playing  fountain. 
A  single  attendant  stood  in  the  doorway.     Me  was  a  tall, 
gaunt  man  in  servile  dress,  with  a  rather  sickly  smile  on  his 
sharp  yellow  face.     Fabia  alighted  from  her  litter.    There 
was  a  certain  secluded  uncanniness  about  the  house,  which 
made  her  dislike  for  an  instant  to  enter.     The  slave  in  the 
door  silently  bei'koned  for  her  to  come  in.     The  Vestal  in- 
formed hr    Learers  that  she  was  likely  to  be  absent  some  little 

1  Ottium. 


.: 


162 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


( 


time,  and  they  must  wait  quietly  without,  and  not  annoy  a 
dying  man  with  unseemly  laughter  or  loud  conversation. 
Then,  without  hesitancy,  Fabia  gathered  her  priestess's  cloak 
about  her,  and  boldly  entered  the  strange  atrium.  As  she  did 
so,  the  attendant  noiselessly  closed  the  door,  and  what  was 
further,  shot  home  a  bolt. 

«<  There  is  no  need  for  that,"  remarked  the  Vestal,  who 
never  before  in  her  life  had  experienced  such  an  unaccountable 
sense  of  disquietude. 

"It  is  my  habit  always  to  push  the  bolt,"  said  the  slave, 
bowing,  and  leading  the  way  toward  the  peristylium. 

"You  are  Titus  Denter's  slave?"  asked  Fabia.     The  other 
nodded.     "And  your  master  is  a  very  sick  man?" 
"Your  most  noble  ladyship  shall  judge  for  herself." 
" Take  me  to  him  at  once,  if  he  can  see  me." 
"He  is  waiting." 

The  two  went  through  the  narrow  passageway  which  led 
from  the  outer  court  of  the  atrium  into  the  inner  court  of  the 
peristylium.  Fabia  was  surprised  to  see  that  here  all  the 
marble  work  had  been  carefully  washed  clean,  the  little  en- 
closed garden  was  in  beautiful  order,  and  in  various  corners 
and  behind  some  of  the  pillars  were  bronze  and  sculptured 
statues  of  really  choice  art.  Vhe  slave  stopped  and  pointed 
to  a  couch  upholstered  in  crimson,  beside  the  fish  tank,  where 
tame  lampreys  were  rising  for  a  bit  of  food. 

"Take  me  to  your  master!  "  repeated  Fabia,  puzzled  by  the 
^•esture.     " I  am  not  weary.     You  say  he  waits  me?" 
"He  will  be  here,"  replied  the  servant,  with  another  bow. 
"  Here?  "  exclaimed  the  Vestal,  now  really  alarmed.    "  Here? 
He,  a  man  sick  unto  death?" 

"Certainly;   here!"   broke  in  a  strange  voice;   and  forth 
from  behind  a  pillar  stepped  I'ublius  Gabinius,  all  pomaded 


HOW  GABINIUS  MET   WITH  A  REBUFF     163 

and  rouged,  dressed  only  in  a  gauzy,  many-folded  scarlet 
ayntheais.^ 

Fabia  gave  a  scream  and  sprang  back  in  instinctive  alarm 
In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  it  flashed  over  her  that  for  some 
purpose  or  other  she  had  been  trapped.     Gabinius  she  knew 
barely  by  sight;  but  his  reputation  had  come  to  her  ears,  and 
fame  spoke  nothing  good  of  him.     Yet  even  at  the  moment 
when  she  felt  herself  in  the  most  imminent  personal  peril,  the 
mbred  dignity  and  composed  hauteur  of  the  Vestal  did  not 
desert  her.     At  the  selfsame  instant  that  she  said  to  lierself 
•Can  I  escape  through  the  atrium  before  they  can  stop  me^" 
recovering  from  her  first  surprise,  and  with  never  a  quiver  of 
eyelash  or  a  paling  of  cheek,  she  was  saying  aloud,  in  a  tone 
cold  as  ice,  "And  indeed,  most  excellent  Gabinius,  you  must 
pardon  me  for  being  startled;  for  all  that  I  know  of  you  tells 
me  that  you  are  likely  to  find  a  sombre  Vestal  sorry  enough 
company."  ° 

Gabinius  had  been  counting  coolly  on  a  very  noisy  scene, 
one  of  a  kind  he  was  fairly  familiar  with -an  abundance  of 
screaming,  expostulation,  tearing  of  hair,  and  other  manifes- 
tations of  feminine  agony -to  be  followed,  of  course  by 
ultimate  submission  to  the  will  of  all-dominant  man  '  He 
was  not  accustomed  to  have  a  woman  look  him  fairly  iu  the 
eye  and  speak  in  tones,  not  of  bootless  fury,  but  of  superior 
scorn.  And  his  answer  was  painfully  lacking  in  the  ascendant 
volubility  which  would  have  befitted  the  occasion. 

"  Forgive  me ;  pardon ;  it  was  of  course  necessary  to  resort  to 
some  subterfuge  in  order  -  in  order  to  prevent  your  attendants 
troni  becoming  suspicious." 

Fabia  cast  a  glance  behind  her,  and  saw  that  before  the  two 
doors  leading  to  the  atrium  her  conductor  and  another  tall 
»  The  "  dinner  coat "  of  tlie  Roniau». 


164 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


slave  had  placed  themselves;  but  she  replied  in  a  tone  a  little 
more  lofty,  if  possible,  than  before :  — 

"  I  cannot  well,  sir,  understand  you.  Are  you  a  friend  of 
Titus  Denter,  who  is  sick?  I  do  not  see  that  any  subterfuge 
is  necessary  when  I  am  to  receive  the  deposit  of  a  will  from  a 
dying  man.     It  is  a  recognized  duty  of  my  office." 

Oabinius  was  still  more  at  a  loss. 

"You  should  certainly  understand,  lady,"  he  began,  cursing 
himself  for  having  to  resoi-t  to  circumlocutions,  "  that  this  is 
my  own  villa,  and  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Titus 
Denter.     I  sent  the  letter  because  —  " 

"Because,  my  worthy  sir,"  interrupted  Fabia,  not  however 
raising  her  voice  in  the  least,  "you  are  weary  of  Greek  flute- 
players  for  sweethearts  or  such  Roman  young  ladies  as  admire 
either  the  ointments  or  the  pimples  of  your  face,  and  conse- 
quently seek  a  little  diversion  by  laying  snares  for  a  sacred 
Vestal." 

Gabinius  at  last  found  free  use  for  his  tongue. 

"Oh,  lady;  Lady  Fabia,"  he  cried,  stretching  out  his  arms 
and  taking  a  step  nearer,  "don't  misjudge  me  so  cruelly  1  I 
will  forsake  anything,  everything,  for  you!  I  have  nothing 
to  dream  of  day  or  night  but  your  face.  You  have  served 
your  thirty  years  in  the  Temple,  and  can  ((uit  its  service. 
Why  entertain  any  superstitious  scruple  against  doing  what 
the  law  allows?  Come  with  me  to  Egypt ;  to  Spain;  toParthia; 
anywhere.  Only  do  not  reject  me  and  my  entreaties!  I  will 
do  anything  for  your  sake !  " 

Critical  as  was  her  situation,  Fabia  could  not  refrain  from 
a  sense  of  humour,  when  she  saw  and  heard  this  creature  —  the 
last  intimate  she  would  select  in  the  wovld  —  pressing  his  suit 
with  such  genuine  passion.  When  she  answered,  an  exasper- 
ating smile  was  on  her  lips. 


HOW  GABINIUS  MET  WITH  A  REBUFF     165 

"By  Castor!  "she  replied,  "the  noble  Gabinius  is  not  a  bad 
ragedian.     If  he  has  nothing  further  to  inform  me  than  that 
I  am  favoured  by  his  good  graces,  I  can  only  decline  h"  pro 
posals  with  humble  firmness,  and  depart  »  ^ 

anZot'l'^Ti'"^'"  ""'  '^*'^"^^'  ^-^-«  t^-t  he 
and  not  his  would-be  victim  were  like  to  go  into  a  frenzy 

'you  Shan  t  go!     I  have  you  here.     And  here  you  shlu 

remain  until  I  have  your  word  that  you  will  quit  the  Tempt 

Lvan:ed"'  '""  "  your  master!"    And  again  he 

"What  restrains  me  here?  "  queried  Fabia,  sternly,  the  blood 
suiW  from  her  cheeks,  but  by  step  or  by  glance  quailing  ^ot 
in  the  least.  Who  dare  restrain  or  offer  harm  to  a  Vestal 
of  the  Roman  Republic?  " 

gest'url  '''°''''''  '^'''^°'"'  '"  "'"'^  ^''"^^''  ^^'^  ^  ^^"-«i"g 
J^bia  took  a  step  toward  him,  and  instinctively  he  fell  back. 
You  .^  she  repeated,  her  black  eyes,  ablaze  with  the  fire  of 
a  ho  y  indignation,  searching  Gabinius 's  impure  heart  through 
and  through.  "You,  little  man?  Are  you  fond  of  death,  and 
yet  lack  courage  to  drink  the  i>oison  yourself?  " 

"I  dai^  anything!"  .ried  Gabinius,  getting  more  and  more 
uncontrolled  "This  is  my  house.  These  are  my  slave" 
The  high  walls  will  cut  off  any  screams  you  may  utter  in  this 
court.  I  have  you  in  my  ,x)wer.  You  have  placed  yonrs.T 
m  my  hands  by  coming  here.  Refuse  to  do  as  I  say  and  i 
charge  win  be  laid  against  you  before  the  pontfjlce.,^  that  yo; 
have  broken  the   vow  which  binds  every   Vestal.    All  the 

iTr^Tn  r ""'"  ^  ''^'''"''  ^"""^  ^^  ^""  ''^"^'  ^^"*  ^^"  ^°^- 

1  College  oX  chief  priest*. 


166 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


Fabia  ^ew  a  shade  paler,  if  it  were  possible,  than  before. 

"  I  know,"  she  replied,  "till  very  gently,  "  that  an  unfaithful 
Vestal  is  buried  alive  in  the  Campus  Sceleratus ;  but  I  know, 
too,  that  her  seducer  i^  beaten  to  death  with  nis.  Accuse 
me,  or  attack  mo,  and  whatever  be  my  fate,  I  can  say  that 
which  will  send  your  black  soul  down  to  Tiurtarus  with  guilt 
enough  for  Minos  to  punish.  Your  delicately  anointed  skin 
would  be  sadly  bruised  by  the  stripes  falling  upon  it.  And 
now,  if  these  creatures  will  stand  one  side,  I  will  leave  you." 

And  Fabia  drew  her  mantle  afxiut  her,  and  walked  straight 
past  the  awestruck  slaves  into  the  atrium,  where  she  unbolted 
the  door  and  passed  out.  Gabinius  stood  gazing  after  her, 
half-fascinated,  half-d.ized.  Only  when  the  door  closed  did 
he  burst  out  to  one  of  the  slaves :  — 

"Timid  dog,  why  did  you  let  her  escape?" 

"Dominus,"  whimpered  the  menial,  "why  did  you  let  her 
escape?  " 

"Insolence!"  cried  Gabinius,  seizing  a  staff,  and  beating 
first  one,  then  the  other,  of  his  servants  indiscriminately  ;  and 
so  he  continued  to  vent  his  vexation,  until  Fabia's  litter  was 
well  inside  the  IV*rta  Capena. 

n 

Fabia  had  thus  escaped  from  the  clutches  of  Gabinius,  and 
the  latter  was  sullen  and  foiled.  But  none  the  less  the  Vestal 
was  in  a  tremor  of  fear  for  the  consequences  of  her  meeting 
with  the  libertine.  She  knew  that  Gabinius  was  determined, 
dexterous,  and  indefatigable;  that  he  was  baffled,  but  not 
necessarily  driven  to  throw  over  his  illicit  quest.  And  Fabia 
realized  keenly  t)idt  going  as  ^he  had  unattended  into  a  strange 
house,  and  remaining  there  some  tir;  ■  with  no  friendly  eye  to 
bear  witness  to  her  actions,  wou  i   ■(  unt  terribly  against  her. 


HOW  GABINIUS  MET  WITH  A   REBUFF     167 

if  Gabinius  was  driven  to  bay.     She  dared  not,  as  she  would 
glat  ly  have  done,  appear  before  tlie  pontitices  and  demand  of 
them  that  they  mete  out  due  punishment  on  Gabinius  for 
grossly  insulting  the  sanctity  of  a  Vestal.     Her  hope  was  that 
Gabinius  would  realize  that  he  could  not  incriminate  her  with- 
out ruining  himself,  and  that  he  had  been  so  thoroughly  terri- 
faed  on  reflection  as  to  what  might  be  the  consequences  to 
himself,  if  he  tried  to  follow  the  intrigue,  V  at  he  would  pru- 
dently drop  It.     These  considerations  hardly  served  to  lighten 
the  gloom  which  had  fallen  across  Fabia's  life.     It  was  not  so 
much  the  personal  peril  that  saddened  her.     All  her  life  she 
had  heard  the  ugly  din  of  the  world's  wickedness  pass  harm- 
lessly over  her  head,  like  a  storm  dashing  at  the  doors  of 
some  secluded  dwelling  that  shielded  its  inhabitants  from  the 
tempest.     But  now  she  had  come  personally  face  to  face  with 
the  demon  of  impurity;  she  had  felt  the  fetid  touch  almost 
upon  herself;  and  it  hurt,  it  sickened  her.     Therefore  it  was 
that  the  other  Vestals  marvelled,  asking  what  change  had  come 
over  their  companion,  to  quench  tlie  mild  sunshine  of  her  life- 
and  Fabia  held  little  Livia  very  long  and  very  closely  in  her 
arms,  as  if  it  were  a  solace  to  feel  near  her  an  innocent  little 
thing  "unspotted  of  the  world." 

All  this  had  happened  a  very  few  days  before  the  breathless 
Agias  came  to  inform  Fabia  of  tl.e  plot  against  her  nephew 
Perhaps,  as  with  Cornelia,  tlie  fact  that  one  near  and  dear 
was  in  peril  aided  to  make  the  consciousness  of  her  own  un- 
happiness  less  keen.  None  could  question  Fabia's  resolute 
energy.  She  sent  Agias  on  his  way,  tlien  Imrried  off  in  her 
Utter  in  quest  of  Caius  Marcellus,  the  consul.  JEuxilina 
Paulus,  the  other  consul,  was  a  nonentity,  not  worth  appealing 
to,  since  he  had  virtually  abdicated  office  uix)n  selling  his 
neutrality  to  Caesar.     But  Marcellus  gave  her  little  comfort. 


MICROCOTY   RESOLUTION   TBT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


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MTS 

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1^ 

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■  1^ 

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2.2 


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^    >IPPLIED  IM/^GE= 

1653   Eos!   Main   Street 

???^^'\Vi  ^"'   '*°"'         '♦609       USA 
(716)  482  -  0300  -  Phon. 
(716)   288-5989  -  Fo« 


168 


A  FKIEND  OF  C^SAR 


She  broke  in  upon  the  noble  lord,  while  he  was  participating 
in  a  drunken  garden-party  in  the  Gardens  of  Lucullus.  The 
consul  — hardly  sober  enough  to  talk  coherently  —  had  de 
Glared  that  it  was  impossible  to  start  any  troops  that  day  to 
Praeneste.  "  To-morrow,  when  he  had  time,  he  would  consider 
the  matter."  And  Fabia  realized  that  the  engine  of  govern- 
ment would  be  very  slow  to  set  iu  motion  in  favour  of  a  marked 
Caesarian. 

But  she  had  another  recourse,  and  hastened  her  litter  down 
one  of  the  quieter  streets  of  the  Subura,  where  was  the  modest 
house  occupied  by  Julius  Caesar  before  he  became  Pontifex 
Maximus.  This  building  was  now  used  by  the  Caesarian 
leaders  as  a  sort  of  party  headquarters.  Fabia  boldly  ordered 
the  porter  to  summon  before  her  Curio  —  whom  she  was  sure 
was  in  the  house.  Much  marvelling  at  the  visit  of  a  Vestal, 
the  slave  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  moments  that  tribune  was  in 
her  presence. 

Caius  Scribonius  Curio  was  probably  a  very  typical  man  of 
his  age.  He  was  personally  of  voluptuous  habits,  fearfully 
extravagant,  endowed  with  very  few  scruples  and  a  very  weak 
"ense  of  right  and  wrong.  But  he  was  clear-headed,  energetic, 
a  good  orator,  a  clever  reasoner,  an  astute  handler  of  men, 
courageous,  versatile,  full  of  recourse,  and  on  the  whole  above 
the  commission  of  any  really  glaring  moral  infraction.  He 
was  now  in  his  early  prime,  and  he  came  before  Fabia  as  a 
man  tall,  athletic,  deep-chested,  deep-voiced,  with  a  regular 
profile,  a  clear,  dark  complexion,  curly  hair  carefully  dressed, 
freshly  shaven,  and  in  perfect  toilet.  It  was  a  pleasure,  in 
sh  irt,  to  come  in  contact  with  such  a  vigorous,  aggressive 
personality,  be  the  dark  corners  of  his  life  what  they  might. 

Curio  yielded  to  no  man  in  his  love  of  Luerine  oysters  and 
good  Ceecuban  wine.    But  he  had  been  spending  little  time  on 


HOW  GABINIUS  MET  WITH  A  EEBUFF     169 

the  dining  couch  that  evening.    In  fact  he  had  at  that  moment 
in  his  hand  a  set  of  tablets  on  which  he  had  been  writing. 

''Salve!  Domina!"  was  his  greeting,  "what  unusual  honour 
is  this  which  brings  the  most  noble  Vestal  to  the  trysting  spot 
of  us  poor  Populares." 

And,  with  the  courtesy  of  a  gentleman  of  the  world,  he 
offered  Fabia  an  armchair. 

"  Cains  Curio,"  said  the  Vestal,  wasting  very  few  words, 
"do you  know  my  nephew,  Quintus  Drusus  of  Prseneste  ?  " 

"It  is  an  honour  to  acknowledge  friendship  with  such  an 
excellent  young  man,"  said  Curio,  bowing. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  so.  I  understand  that  he  has  already 
suffered  no  slight  calamity  for  adhering  to  your  party." 

"  Vah  !  "  and  the  tribune  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Doubtless 
he  has  had  a  disagreeable  time  with  the  consul-elect,  but  from 
all  thai  I  can  hear,  the  girl  he  lost  was  hardly  one  to  make  his 
life  a  happy  one.  It's  notorious  the  way  she  has  displayed  her 
passion  for  young  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  and  we  all  know  what 
kind  of  a  man  he  is.  But  I  may  presume  to  remark  that  your 
ladyship  would  hardly  come  here  simply  to  remind  me  of  this." 
«  No,"  repli3d  Fabia,  directly,  •<  I  have  come  here  to  appeal  to 
you  to  do  something  for  me  which  Marcellus  the  consul  was 
too  drunk  to  try  to  accomplish  if  he  would." 

Fabia  had  struck  the  right  note.  Only  a  few  days  before 
Appius  Claudius,  the  censor,  had  tried  to  strike  Curio's  name 
from  the  rolls  of  the  Senate.  Piso,  the  other  censor,  had  re- 
sisted. There  had  been  an  angry  debate  in  the  Senate,  and 
Marcellus  had  inveighed  against  the  Caesarian  tribune,  and  had 
joined  in  a  furious  war  of  words.  The  Senate  had  voted  to 
allow  Curio  to  keep  his  seat ;  and  the  anti-Ca!sarians  had  pa- 
raded in  mourning  as  if  the  vote  were  a  great  calamity. 
Curio's  eyes  lit  up  with  an  angry  fire. 


f,  I 


170 


A  FRIEND  OP  CiESAR 


I 


I 


"  Lump  of  filth !    Who  was  he,  to  disoblige  you ! " 

"You  will  understand,"  said  Fabia,  still  quietly;  and  then 

briefly  she  told  of  the  conspiracy  against  the  life  of  Drusus,  so 

far  as  she  had  gathered  it. 

"Where  did  you  learn  all  this,"  queried  Curio,  "if  I  may 
venture  to  ask  ?  " 

"From  Agias,  the  slave  of  Cornelia,  niece  of  Lentulus." 
"  But  what  is  Drusus  to  her  ? »  demanded  the  marvelling 
tribune. 

"He  is  everything  to  her.  She  has  been  trying  to  win  her 
way  into  Ahenobarbus's  confidence,  and  learn  all  of  the  plot." 
A  sudden  light  seemed  to  break  over  the  face  of  the  politician. 
He  actually  smiled  with  relieved  pleasure,  and  cried,  "Papce! 
Wonderful !  I  may  be  the  farthest  of  all  the  world  from  Dioge- 
nes  the  Cynic ;  but  a  man  cannot  go  through  life,  unless  he 
has  his  eyes  shut,  and  not  know  that  there  are  different  kinds 
of  women.  I  was  sorry  enough  to  have  to  feel  that  a  girl  like 
Cornelia  was  becoming  one  of  Clodia's  coterie.  After  all,  the 
world  isn't  so  bad  as  we  make  it  out  to  be,  if  it  is  Curio  the  prof- 
ligate  who  says  it." 

"But  Drusus,  my  nephew?"  exclaimed  Fabia.  "He  is  in 
frightful  danger.  You  know  Dumnorix  will  have  a  great  band 
of  gladiators,  and  there  is  no  force  in  Praeneste  that  can  be 
counted  on  to  restrain  him." 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  Curio,  laughing,  "I  am  praising  the 
happy  Genius  that  brought  you  here.  We  Caisarians  are  taught 
by  our  leaders  never  to  desert  a  friend  in  need;  and  Drusus  has 
been  a  very  good  friend  to  us,  especially  by  using  all  his  influ- 
ence, very  successfully,  for  our  cause  among  thf  '^ranestians 
and  the  people  of  those  parts.  When  did  you  sa,  aat  Dumno- 
rix  would  pass  through  the  town  ?  " 

"Early  to-morrow,  possibly,"  replied  the  Vestal. 


HOW   GABINIUS  MET  WITH  A  REBUFF      171 

"Phuil  Dismiss  all  care.  I'll  find  out  at  once  how  many 
gladiators  he  took  with  him  to  Anagnia.  Some  of  his  gang  will 
be  killed  in  the  games  there,  and  more  will  be  wounded  and 
weak  or  disabled.  I  am  tribune,  and  I  imagine  I  ought  not  to 
be  out  of  the  city  over  night,'  but  before  daybreak  to-morrow  I 
will  take  Antonius  and  Sallustius  and  Quintus  Cassius;  and 
perhaps  I  can  get  Balbus  and  our  other  associates  to  go.  We 
will  arm  a  few  slaves  and  freedmen;  and  it  will  be  strange  in- 
deed if  we  cannot  scatter  to  the  four  winds  Dumnorix's  gladia- 
tors, before  they  have  accomplished  any  mischief." 

"  The  gods  reward  you !  "  said  Fabia,  simply.  « I  will  go  back 
to  the  Temple,  and  pray  that  my  nephew  be  kept  from  harm ; 
and  you  also,  and  your  friends  who  will  defend  him." 

Curio  stood  in  the  atrium  a  long  time  after  the  Vestal  had 
left. 

«  The  gods  reward  you ! "  he  repeated.  «  So  she  believes  in 
the  gods,  that  there  are  gods,  and  that  they  care  for  us  strug- 
gling men.  Ah !  Caius,  Caius  Curio ;  if  the  mob  had  murdered 
you  that  day  you  protected  Caesar  after  he  spoke  in  the  Senate 
in  favour  of  the  Catilinarians,  where  would  you  be  to-day  ? 
Whence  have  you  couie  ?  Whither  do  you  go  ?  What  assur- 
ance have  you  that  you  can  depend  on  anything,  but  your  own 
hand  and  keen  wits  ?  What  is  to  become  of  you,  if  you  are 
knocked  on  the  head  in  that  adventure  to-morrow  ?  And  yet 
that  woman  believes  there  are  gods !  What  educated  man  is 
there  that  does  ?  Perhaps  we  would,  if  we  led  the  pimple  lives 
our  fathers  did,  and  that  woman  lives.  Enough  of  this !  J 
raubt  be  over  letters  to  Caesar  at  Ravenna  till  midnight:  and 
then  at  morn  off  to  gallop  till  our  horses  are  foimdered." 

1  This  was  the  law,  that  the  tribunes  might  always  be  -eady  to  render  help 
(auxilium)  tu  the  distressed. 


CHAPTER  X 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR 


Agias  left  Phaon  in  the  clutches  of  the  landlord  and  his 
subordinates  and  was  reasonably  certain  that  since  the  freed- 
man  had  not  a  farthing  left  with  which  to  bribe  his  keepers, 
he  was  out  of  harm's  way  for  the  time  being.  The  moon  was 
risen,  and  guided  by  its  light  the  young  s^ave  flew  on  toward 
Praeneste  without  incident.  Whatever  part  of  the  conspira- 
tor's plans  depended  on  Phaon  was  sure  to  collapse.  For  the 
rest,  Agias  could  only  warn  Drnsus,  and  have  the  latter  arm 
his  clients  and  slaves,  and  call  in  his  friends  from  tha  town. 
With  such  precautions  Dumnorix  could  hardly  venture  to  risk 
himself  and  ais  men,  whatever  might  be  the  plot. 

Thus  satisfied  in  mind,  Agias  arrived  at  the  estate  of  the 
Drusi,  close  to  Praeneste,  and  demanded  admittance,  about  two 
hours  before  midnight.  He  had  some  difficulty  in  stirring  up 
the  porter,  and  when  that  worthy  at  last  condescended  to  unbar 
the  front  door,  the  young  Greek  was  surprised  and  dismayed 
to  hear  that  the  master  of  the  house  had  gone  to  visit  a 
farm  at  Lanuvium,  a  town  some  fifteen  miles  to  the  south. 
Agias  was  thunderstruck  ;  he  had  not  counted  on  Drusus  being 
absent  temporarily.  But  perhaps  his  very  absence  would  cause 
the  plot  to  fail. 
"  And  what  time  will  he  return  ?  "  asked  Agias. 

173 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR     173 

"What  time  ?  "  replied  the  porter,  with  a  sudden  gleam  of 
intelligence  darting  up  in  his  lack-lustre  eyes.   "  We  expect  he 
will  return  early  to-morrow  morning.   But  the  road  from  Lanu- 
^um  IS  across  country  and  you  have  to  skirt  the  Alban  Mount 
He  may  be  rather  late  in  arriving,  drives  he  ever  so  hard." 

"Hercules!"  cried  the  agitated  messenger.  "My  horse  ij 
blown,  and  I  don't  know  the  road  in  the  dark.  Send,  I  pray 
you  — by  all  the  gods  —to  Lanuvium  this  instant." 

«Aye,»  drawled  the  porter.  "And  wherefore  at  such  an 
hour  ?  " 

"  It's  for  life  and  death ! "  expostulated  Agias. 

The  porter,  who  was  a  thick-set,   ix)werful  man,  with  a 
bristly  black  beard,  and  a  low  forehead  crowned  by  a  heaw 
shock  of  dark  hair,  at  this  instant  thrust  out  a  capacious  paw 
and  seized  Agias  roughly  by  the  wrist.  ' 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  young  cut-throat!  I  wondered  how  long  this 
would  last  on  your  part !  Well,  now  I  must  take  you  to  Falto, 
to  get  the  beginning  of  your  deserts." 

"Are  you  mad,  fellow?"  bawled  Agias,  while  the  porter 
grasping  him  by  the  one  hand,  and  the  dim  lamp  oy  the  other' 
dragged  him  into  the  house.  "Do  you  '-now  who  I  am  ^  or 
what  my  business  is  ?  Do  you  want  to  have  your  master 
murdered  ?  " 

'^Perpol!  Not  in  the  least.  That's  why  I  do  as  I  do  Tell 
your  story  to  Falto.  Eho!  What's  that  you've  got  under 
your  cloak  ?  "  And  he  pounced  upon  a  small  dagger  poor  Agias 
had  carried  as  a  precaution  against  eventualities.  « I  imagine 
you  are  accustomed  to  use  a  little  knife  like  this."  And\he 
fellow  gave  a  gleeful  chuckle. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Agias  expostulated  and  tried  to  exp'aia 
The  porter  kept  him  fast  as  a  prisoner,  and  in  a  few  moments 
by  his  shouts  had  arous-^d  the  whole  sleeping  household,  and 


174 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


I 


stewards,  freedmen,  and  slaves  came  rushing  into  the  atrium. 
Candelabra  blazed  forth.    Torches  tossed.    Maids  screamed. 
Many  tongues  were  raised  in  discordant  shout  and  question. 
At  last  order  was  in  some  measure  restored.    Agias  found  him- 
self before  a  tribunal  composed  of  Falto,  the  subordinate  vil- 
licus,^  as  chief  judge,  and  two  or  three  freedmen  to  act  in 
capacity  of  assessors.     All  of  this  bench  were  hard,  grey- 
headed, weazened  agriculturists,   who  looked  with  no  very 
lenient  eye  upon  the  delicate  and  handsome  young  prisoner 
before  them.    Agias  had  to  answer  a  series  of  savagely  pro- 
pounded questions  which  led  he  knew  not  whither,  and   vhlch 
he  was  almost  too  bewildered  to  answer  intelligently.  The  true 
state  of  the  case  only  came  over  him  by  degrees.     These  were 
the  facts.     Drusus  had  known  that  there  was  a  conspiracy 
against  his  life,  and  had  taken  precautions  against  poisoning 
or  being  waylaid  by  a  small  band  of  cut-throats  such  as  he 
imagined  Ahenobarbus  might  have  sent  to  despatch  him.     He 
had  not  expected  an  attack  on  the  scale  of  Dumnorix's  whole 
band ;    and  he  had  seen  no  reason  why,  accompanied  by  the 
trusty  Mamerci  and  Cappadox,  he  should  not  visit  his  Lanu- 
vian  farm.    The  whole  care  of  guarding  against  conspirators: 
had  been  left  to  Marcus  Mamercus,  and  that  worthy  ex-war- 
rior had  believed  he  had  taken  all  needed  precautions.     He 
had  warned  the  porter  and  the  other  slaves  and  freedmen  to 
be  on  the  lookout  for  suspicious  characters,  and  had  let  just 
enough  of  the  plot  —  as  it  was  known  to  him  —  leak  out,  to  put 
all  the  household  on  the  qui  vive  to  apprehend  any  would-be 
assassin  of  their  beloved  young  master.     But  with  that  fatuity 
which  often  ruins  the  plans  of  "  mice  and  men,"  he  had  failed 
to  inform  even  his  subordinate  Falto  of  the  likelihood  of  Agias 
arriving  from  Rome.     It  had  obviously  been  desirable  that  it 

^  Farm  steward. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR  175 

should  not  be  bruited  among  the  servants  that  Cornelia  and 
Drusus  were  still  communicating,  and  when  Agias  was  haled 
into  the  atrium,  his  only  identification  was  by  some  over-zeal- 
ous  slave,  who  declared  that  the  prisoner  belonged  to  the 
familia  of  Lentulus  Crus,  the  bitter  foe  of  their  master 

With  senses  unduly  alert  the  porter,  as  soon  as  he  was  aroused 
from  his  slumborg,  had  noticed  that  evening  that  Agias  had 
come  on  some  unusual  business,  and  that  he  was  obviously  con- 
fused when  he  learned  that  Drusus  was  not  at  home.    With  his 
suspicions   thus  quickened,  every   word  the   luckless  Greek 
uttered  went  to  incriminate  him  in  the  mind  of  the  porter 
Agias  was  certainly  an  accomplice  in  the  plot  against  Drusus' 
sent  to  the  house  at  an  unseasonable  hour,  on  some  dark  errand' 
The  porter  had  freely  protested  this  belief  to  Falto  and  his 
court,  and  to  support  his  indictment  produced  the  captured 
dagger,  the  sure  sign  of  a  would-be  murderer.     Besides    a 
large  sum  of  gold  wa^  found  on  Agias's  person ;  his  fa.t  Num'id- 
lan  horse  was  still  steaming  before  the  door-and  ^.L  t  honest 
slave  could  travel  thus,  with  such  a  quantity  of  money  ? 

Agias  tried  to  tell  his  story,  but  to  no  effect;  Falto  and  his 
fellow-judges  dryly  remarked  to  one  another  that  the  prisoner 
«.as  trying  to  clear  himself,  by  plausibly  admitting  the  exist- 
ence of  the  conspiracy,  but  of  course  suppressing  the  real 
details^  Agias  reasoned.    He  was  met  with  obstinate  incredu- 
lity.   He  entreated,  prayed,  implored.    The  prejudiced  rustics 
mocked  at  him,  and  hinted  that  they  cared  too  much  for  their 
patron  to  believe  any  tale   that  such  a  manifest  impostor 
might  tell  them.    Pausanias,  the  Mamerci,  and  Cappadox,  the 
only  persons,  besides  Drusus,  who  could  readily  identify  him 
were  away  at  Lanuvium.  ' 

The  verdict  of  guilty  was  so  unanimous  that  it  needed  little 
or  no  discussion  J  and  Falto  pronounced  sentence. 


1 


m 


\ 


176 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


I 


"  Mago,"  to  the  huge  African,  "  take  this  wretched  boy  to 
the  slave-prison ;  fetter  him  heavily.  On  your  life  do  not  let 
him  escape.  Give  him  bread  and  water  at  sunrise.  When 
Master  Drusus  returns  he  will  doubtless  bid  us  crucify  the  vil- 
lain, and  in  the  morning  Natta  the  carpenter  shall  prepare  two 
beams  for  the  purpose." 

Agias  comforted  himself  by  reflecting  that  things  would 
hardly  go  to  that  terrible  extremity ;  but  it  was  not  reassuring 
to  hear  Ligus,  the  crabbed  old  cellarer,  urge  that  he  be  made  to 
confess  then  and  there  under  the  cat.  Falto  overruled  the 
proposition.  "  It  was  late,  and  Mamercus  was  the  man  to  extort 
confess!  ~i."  So  Agias  found  himself  thrust  into  a  filthy  cell, 
lighted  only  by  a  smaF.  chink,  aear  the  top  of  the  low  stone 
wall,  into  which  strayed  a  bit  of  moonlight.  The  night  he 
passed  wretchedly  enough,  on  a  truss  of  fetid  straw ;  while  the 
tight  irons  that  confined  him  chafed  his  wrists  and  ankles. 
Needless  to  add,  he  cursed  roundly  all  things  human  and  heav- 
enly, before  he  fell  into  a  brief,  troubled  sleep.  In  the  morn- 
ing Mago,  who  acted  as  jailer,  brought  him  a  pot  of  water  and 
a  saucer  of  uncooked  wheat  porridge ;  ^  and  infc  ^ed  him,  with 
a  grin,  that  Natta  was  making  the  beams  ready.  Agias  con- 
tented himself  by  asking  Mago  to  tell  Drusus  about  him,  as 
soon  as  the  master  returned.  "  You  are  very  young  to  wish  to 
die,"  said  the  Libyan,  grimly.  Agias  did  not  argue.  Mago 
left  him.  By  climbing  up  a  rude  stool,  Agias  could  peer 
through  the  loophole,  which  by  great  luck  commanded  a  fairly 
ample  view  of  the  highway.  Drusus  he  naturally  expected 
would  come  from  the  south,  toward  Praeneste.  And  thence 
every  moment  he  trembled  lest  Dumnorix's  gang  should  appear 
in  sight.  But  every  distant  dust-cloud  for  a  long  time  resolved 
itself  sooner  or  later  into  a  shepherd  with  a  flock  of  unruly 

1  Puis,  the  primitive  Italian  food. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR 


177 


sheep,  or  a  wagon  tugged  by  a  pair  of  mules  and  containing  a 
single  huge  wine-skin.    Drusus  came  Jiot;    Diimnoi  x  came 
not.    Agias  <jrew  weary  of  watching,  and  climbed  painfully 
down  from  the  stool  to  eat  his  raw  porridge.     Hardly  had  he 
done  so  than  a  load  clatter  of  hoofs  sounded  without.     With  a 
bound  that  twisted  his  confined  ankles  and  wrists  sadly,  Agias 
was  back  at  his  post.    A  single  rider  on  a  handsome  bay  horse 
was  coming  up  from  the  direction  of  Rome.     As  he  drew  near 
to  the  villa,  he  pulled  at  his  reins,  and  brought  his  steed  down 
to  a  walk.    The  horseman  passed  close  to  the  loophole,  and 
there  was  no  mistaking  his  identity.    Agias  had  often  seen 
that  pale,  pimpled  face,  and  those  long  effeminate  curls  in  com- 
pany with  Lixcius  Ahenobarbus.    The  rider  was  Publius  Gabin- 
ius,  and  the  young  Greek  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  his 
coming  boded  no  good  to  Drusus.     Gabinius  looked  carefully 
at  the  villa,  into  the  groves  surrounding  it,  and  then  up  and 
dowr  the  highway.     Then  he  touched  the  spur  to  his  mount, 
and  was  gone. 

Agias  wrung  his  manacled  hands.  Drusus  would  be  mur- 
3red,  Cornelia's  happiness  undone,  and  he  himself  would 
become  the  slave  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  who,  when  he  had 
heard  Phaon's  story,  would  show  little  enough  of  mercy.  He 
cursed  the  suspicious  porter,  cursed  Falto,  cursed  every  slave 
and  freedman  on  the  estate,  cursed  Mamercus  for  not  leaving 
some  word  about  the  possibility  of  his  coming  from  Rome! 
Agias's  imprecations  spent  themselves  in  air;  and  he  was  none 
the  happier.  Would  Drusus  never  come  ?  The  time  was  drift- 
ing on.  "he  sun  had  been  up  three  or  more  hours.  At  any 
instant  the  gladiators  might  arriv  e. 

Then  again  tLere  was  a  clatter  of  hoofs,  at  the  very  moment 
when  Agias  had  again  remounted  to  the  loopliole.  There  were 
voices  raised  in  questions  and   greetings;    slave-boys   were 


178 


A  FRIEND  O?  CiESAB 


I 


scampering  to  and  l.o  to  take  the  horses ;  Drusus  with  Pan- 
samas  and  the  Mamerci  had  returned  from  Lanuvium.  Agias 
pressed  his  head  out  the  loophole  and  screamed  to  attract 
attention.  His  voice  could  not  penetrate  the  domestic  hubbub. 
Drusus  was  standing  shaking  hands  with  a  couple  of  clients 
and  evidently  in  a  very  good  humour  over  some  blunt  rustic 
compliment.  Mago  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Agias  glauced 
up  the  road  toward  Praeneste.  The  highway  was  straight  and 
fairly  level,  bui  as  it  went  over  a  hill-slope  some  little  way  off, 
what  was  that  he  saw  upon  it  ?  —  the  sun  flashing  on  bright 
arms,  which  glinted  out  from  the  dust-cloud  raised  by  a  con- 
siderable number  of  men  marching ! 

"Drusus!  Master  Drusus!"  Agias  threw  all  his  soul 
into  the  cry.  As  if  to  blast  his  last  hope,  Drusus  hastily 
bowed  away  the  salves  and  aves  of  the  two  clients,  turned, 
and  went  into  the  villa.  Agias  groaned  in  agony.  A  very 
few  moments  would  bring  Dumnorix  to  the  villa,  and  the 
young  slave  did  not  doubt  that  Gabinius  was  with  the  lanista 
to  direct  the  attack.  Agias  tore  at  his  chains,  and  cursed 
again,  calling  on  all  the  Furies  of  Tartarus  to  confound  the 
porter  and  Falto.  Suddenly  before  the  loophole  passed  a 
slave  damsel  of  winning  face  and  blithesome  manner,  hum- 
ming to  herself  a  rude  little  ditty,  while  she  balanced  a  large 
earthen  water-pot  on  her  head.  It  was  Chloe,  whom  the 
reader  has  met  in  the  opening  scene  of  this  book,  though 
Agias  did  v^^'  xiow  her  name. 

"By  all  tne  gods,  girl!"  he  cried  frantically,  "do  you 
want  to  have  your  master  slaughtered  before  your  very 
eyes  ?  " 

Chloe  stopped,  a  little  startled  at  this  voice,  almost  from 
under  her  feet. 

"Oh,  you,  Master  Assassin  !"  she  sneered.     "Do  you  want 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOH  179 

"Woman,"  cried  Agias,  with  all  the  earnestness  which 
agony  and  fear  could  throw  into  face  and  voice,  "go  this 
instant!  Tell  Master  Drusus  hat  Dumnorix  and  his  g^g 
axe  not  a  furlong^  away.  Th.  mean  to  murder  him.  8. 5 
that  I  Agias,  say  so,  and  he,  .t  least,  will  believe  m  vr,; 
yourself  can  see  the  sun  gleaming  on  their  steel  as  the  ,  rch 
down  the  hill." 

Perhap  ■  it  was  the  sight  which  Agias  indicated,  perhaps  it 
was  his  earnest  words,  perhaps  it  was  his  handsome  face- 
Chloe  was  very  susceptible  to  good  looks-but  for  some  cause 
she  put  down  the  pot  and  wa.  off,  as  fast  as  her  light  heels 
could  carry  her,  toward  the  house. 

U 

Drusus  had  ridden  hard  to  get  back  early  from  Lanuvium 
and  write  some  letters  to  Cornelia,  for  he  had  expected  that 
Agias  would  come  on  th.    very  afte:      on,  on  one  of  his  reg- 
ular,  though  private,  visits ;  aru  he  .    .aed  to  be  able  to  tell 
Cornelia  that,  so  long  a  ti,ae  had  elapsed  since  he  had  been 
warned  against  Ahenobarbus      .1  Pratinas,  and  as  no  attempt 
at  all  had  been  made  r.   his  Id.,  ner  fears  for  him  were  prob- 
ably  groundless  and  the  plot  had  been  for  some  cause  aban- 
doned    Drusus  himself  was  weary,  and  was  glad  to  shake  off 
the. htcle  knot  of  clients  and  retire  to  his  chamber,  preparatory 
for  a  bath  and  a  change  of  clothes.     Fe  had  seen  Falto,  but 
the  latter  deemed  it  best  not  to  trouble  his  patron  at  the  time 
by  mentioning  the  prisoner.    Mago,  too,  concluded  that  it  was 
best  to  defer  executing  his  promise.     Drusus  was  just  letting 
Cappadox  take  off  his  cloak,  when  the  shrill  voice  of  Chloe 

*  About  mn  English  feet 


180 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


was  heard  outside  the  door,  expostulating  with  the  boy  on 
guard. 

"  I  must  see  the  dominus  at  once.    It's  very  important." 

"  Don't  you  see,  you  idiot,  that  you  can't  while  he's  dress- 
ing ?  " 

"  I  must !  "  screamed  Chloe.  And,  violating  every  law  of 
subordination  and  decorum,  she  threw  open  the  door. 

Cappadox  flew  to  eject  her,  but  Chloe' t  quick  tongue  did  its 
work. 

"  A  lad  who  calls  himself  Agias  is  chained  in  the  ergastu- 
lum.  He  says  some  gladiators  are  going  to  attack  the  house, 
and  will  be  here  in  a  moment !  Oh,  I  am  so  frightened ! " 
and  the  poor  girl  threw  her  mantle  over  her  head,  and  began 
to  whimper  and  sob. 

"Agias!"  shouted  Drusus,  at  the  top  of  hid  voice.  "In 
the  ergastulum ?  Per  deoa  immortales !  What's  this?  Mam- 
ercus!  Falto!" 

And  the  young  master  rushed  out  of  the  room,  Cappadox, 
who  like  lightning  had  caught  up  a  sword,  following  him. 

Falto  came  running  from  the  stables ;  Mamercus  from  the 
garden.  Drusus  faced  his  two  subordinates,  and  in  an  eye's 
twinkling  had  taken  in  the  situation.  Mamercus,  who  felt 
within  himself  that  he,  by  his  oversight,  had  been  the  chief 
blunderer,  to  vent  his  vexation  smote  Falto  so  sound  a  cuff 
that  the  under  villicus  sprawled  his  full  length. 

"Go  to  the  ergastulum  and  fetch  Agias  this  instant,"  cried 
Drusus,  in  thundering  accents,  to  the  trembling  Mago,  who 
had  appeared  on  the  scene. 

Mago  disappeared  like  magic,  but  in  an  instant  a  din  was 
rising  from  the  front  of  the  house, —  cries,  blows,  clash  of 
steel.  Into  the  peristylium,  where  the  angry  young  master 
was  standing,  rushed  the  old  slave  woman,  Lai's. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR  181 

"^e»7  hei!"  she  screamed,  "they  are  breaking  in!  Mon- 
sters !  a  hundred  of  them !    They  will  kill  us  all ! » 

Drusus  grew  calm  in  an  instant. 

«  Barricade  the  doors  to  the  atrium ! »  he  commanded,  "  while 
I  can  put  on  my  armour.  You,  Mamercus,  are  too  old  for  this 
kind  of  work;  run  and  call  in  the  field-hands,  the  clients,  and 
the  neighbours.  Cappadox,  Falto,  and  I  can  hold  the  doors 
till  aid  comes." 

"I  run?"  cried  the  veteran,  in  hot  incredulity,  while  with 
his  single  hand  he  tore  from  its  stout  leather  wall-fastenings 
a  shield  that  had  been  beaten  with  Punic  swords  at  the 
Me  aurus  »  «I  run?"  he  repeated,  while  a  mighty  crash  told 
that  the  front  door  had  given  way,  and  the  attackers  were 
pouring  into  the  atrium.  And  the  veteran  had  thrust  a  vener- 
abe  helmet  over  his  grizzled  locks,  and  was  wielding  his  shield 
with  his  handless  left  arm,  while  a  good  Spanish  short-sword 
gleamed  m  his  right  hand. 

The  others  had  not  been  idle.  Cappadox  had  barred  both 
doors  leading  into  the  front  part  of  the  house.  Drusus  had 
armed,  and  Falto,  -a  more  loyal  soul  than  Avhom  lived  not  - 
burning  to  retrieve  his  blunder,  had  sprung  to  his  patron's  side, 
also  in  shield  and  helm. 

"They  will  soon  force  these  doors,"  said  Drusus,  quietly 
growing  more  composed  as  closer  and  closer  came  the  actual 
danger      "Falto  and  I  will  guard  the  right.     Cappadox  and 
you,  Mam.rcus,  if  you  will  stay,  must  guard  the  left.     Some 
aid  must  come  before  a  great  while." 

But  again  the  veteran  whipped  out  an  angry  oath,  and 
thundered,  "You  stay,  you  soft-fingered  Quintus!  You  stay 
and  face  those  German  giants !      Wliy,  you  are  the  very  man 


I 


1  The  great  battle  won  in  207  b.c.  over  Hasdrubal. 


182 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


they  are  after!    Leave  fighting  to  an  old  soldier!    Take  him 
away,  Cappadox,  if  you  love  him ! " 

"I  will  never  leave! "  blazed  forth  Drusus.  "My  place  is 
here.  A  Livian  always  faces  his  foes.  Here,  if  needs  be,  I 
will  die."  But  before  he  could  protest  further,  Cappadox  had 
caught  him  in  his  powerful  arms,  and  despite  his  struggles 
was  running  with  him  through  the  rear  of  the  house. 

Pandemonium  reigned  in  the  atrium.  The  gladiators  were 
shivering  fine  sculptures,  ripping  up  upholstery,  swearing  in 
their  uncouth  Celtic  or  German  dialects,  searching  everywhere 
for  their  victim  in  the  rooms  that  led  off  the  atrium.  A  voice 
in  Latin  was  raising  loud  remonstrance. 

"^depol!  Dumnorix,  call  off  your  men!  Phaon  hasn't 
led  our  bird  into  the  net.  We  shall  be  ruined  if  this  keeps  on ! 
Drusus  isn't  here !  " 

"By  the  Holy  Oak,  Gabinius,"  replied  another  voice,  in 
barbarous  Latin,  "what  I've  begun  I'll  end!  I'll  find  Drusus 
yet;  and  we  won't  leave  a  soul  living  to  testify  against  us! 
You  men,  break  down  that  door  and  let  us  into  the  rest  of 
the  house ! " 

Mamercus  hearr'  a  rush  down  one  of  the  passages  leading 
to  the  peristyliun  The  house  was  almost  entirely  deserted, 
except  by  the  shrieking  maids.  The  clients  and  freedmen  and 
male  slaves  were  almost  all  in  the  fields.  The  veteran,  Falto, 
and  Paasanias,  who  had  come  in,  and  who  was  brave  enough, 
but  nothing  of  a  warrior,  were  the  nly  defenders  of  the 
peristylium. 

"You  two,"  shouted  Mamercus,  "guard  the  other  door! 
Move  that  heavy  chest  against  it.  Pile  the  couch  and  cabinet 
on  top.     This  door  I  will  hold." 

There  was  the  blow  of  a  heav_^  mace  on  the  portal,  and  the 
wood  sprang  out,  and  the  pivots  started. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR     183 

"Leave  this  alone,"  roared  Mamercus,  when  his  two  helpers 
paused,  as  if  to  join  him.     "  Guard  your  own  doorway ! " 

Down  with  it ! »  bellowed  the  voice  of  the  leaders  without. 
"  D«>n't  let  the  game  escape !    Strike  again ! " 

Crash  I  And  the  door,  beaten  from  its  fastenings  by  a 
mighty  stroke,  tumbled  inward  on  to  the  mosaic  pavement  of 
tl  penstylium.  The  light  was  streaming  bright  and  free 
into  that  court,  but  the  passageway  from  the  atrium  was 
shrouded  in  darkness.  Mamercus,  sword  drawn,  stood  across 
the  entrance. 

"By  the  god  TarannM"  shouted  Dumnorix,  who  from  the 
rear  of  his  followers  was  directing  the  attack.  "Here  is  a 
stout  old  game-cock!  Out  of  the  way,  greybeard!  We'll 
spare  you  for  your  spirit.     Take  him,  some  of  you,  alive !  » 

Two  gigantic,  blond  Germans  thrust  their  prodigious  bodies 
through  the  doorway.  Mamercus  was  no  small  man,  but  slight 
he  seemed  before  these  mighty  Northerners. 

The  Germans  had  intended  to  seize  him  in  their  naked 
hands,  but  something  made  them  swing  their  ponderous  long 
swords  and  then,  two  flashes  from  the  short  blade  in  the  hand 
of  the  veteran,  and  both  the  giants  were  weltering  across  the 
threshoia,  their  breasts  pierced  and  torn  by  the  Roman's  mur- 
derous thrusts. 

''Habet!"  cried  Mamercus.  "A  fair  hit!  Come  on,  you 
scum  of  the  earth;  come  on,  you  German  and  Gallic  dogs;  do 
you  think  I  haven't  faced  the  like  of  you  before?  Do  you 
think  your  great  bulks  and  fierce  mustaches  will  make  a  sol- 
dier of  Marius  quiver?  Do  you  want  to  taste  Roman  steel 
again?  " 

And  then  there  was  a  strange  sight.     A  phantasm  seemed  to 
have  come  before  every  member  of  that  mad,  murderous  band; 

1  The  Gallic  thunder-god. 


it 


184 


A  FRIEND  OP  C^SAB 


for  they  saw,  as  it  were,  in  the  single  champion  before  them,  a 
long,  swaying  line  of  men  of  slight  stature  like  him;  of  men 
who  dashed  through  their  phalanxes  and  spear  hedges;  who 
beat  down  their  chieftains ;  whom  no  arrow  fire,  no  sword-play, 
no  stress  of  numbers,  might  stop;  but  who  charged  home  with 
pilum  and  short-sword,  and  defeated  the  most  valorous  enemy. 

"Ha!  Dogs!  "  taunted  Mamercus,  "you  have  seen  Romans 
fight  before,  else  you  were  not  all  here,  to  make  sport  for  our 
holiday ! " 

"He  is  Tyr,»  the  « one-armed,'  who  put  his  left  hand  in  the 
jaws  cf  Fenris-wolf ! "  cried  a  German,  shrinking  back  in 
dread.     "  A  god  is  fighting  us ! " 

"  Fools !  "  shouted  Gabinius  from  a  distance.  "  At  him,  and 
cut  him  down!" 

"  Cut  him  down ! "  roared  Dumnorix,  who  had  wits  enough 
to  realize  that  every  instant's  delay  gave  Drusus  time  to  escape, 
or  collect  help. 

There  was  another  rush  down  the  passage;  but  at  the  narrow 
doorway  the  press  stopped.  Mamercus  fought  as  ten.  His 
shield  and  sword  were  everywhere.  The  Roman  was  as  one 
inspired;  his  eyes  shone  bright  and  clear;  his  lips  were  parted 
in  a  grim,  fierce  smile;  he  belched  forth  rude  soldier  oaths 
that  had  been  current  in  the  army  of  fifty  years  before. 
Thrusting  and  parrying,  he  yielded  no  step,  he  sustained  no 
wound.  And  once,  twice,  thrice  his  terrible  short-sword  found 
its  sheath  in  the  breast  of  a  victim.  In  impotent  rage  the 
gladiators  recoiled  a  second  time. 

"Storm  the  other  door! "  commanded  Dumnorix. 

The  two  defenders  there  had  undertaken  to  pile  up  furni- 
ture against  it;  but  a  few  blows  beat  down  the  entire  barrier. 
Falto  and  Pausanias  stood  to  their  posts  stoutly  enough;  but 

i  A  Germanic  war-god. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR 


185 


there  was  no  master-swordsman  to  guard  this  entrance.  The 
first  gladiator  indeed  went  down  with  a  pierced  neck,  but  the 
next  instant  Falto  v  ,3  beside  him,  atoning  for  his  stupid  folly, 
the  whole  side  of  his  head  cleft  awn  v  by  a  stroke  from  a  Gallic 
long-sword, 

"One  rush  and  we  hav  the  old  man  surrounded,"  exhorted 
Dumnorix,  when  only  Pauaanias  barred  the  way. 

There  was  a  growl  and  a  bound,  and  straight  at  the  foremost 
attacker  flew  Argos,  Mamercus's  great  British  mastiff,  who  had 
silently  slipp.^d  on  to  the  scene.  The  assailant  fell  with  the 
dog's  fangs  in  his  throat.  Again  the  gladiators  recoiled,  and 
before  they  could  return  to  the  charge,  back  into  the  peri- 
stylium  rushed  Drusus,  escaped  from  Cappadox,  with  that 
worthy  and  Mago  and  Agias,  just  released,  at  his  heels. 

"Here's  your  man!"  cried  Gabinius,  who  still  kept  dis- 
creetly in  the  rear. 

"Freedom  and  ten  sestertia^  to  the  one  who  strikes  Drusus 
down,"  called  Dumnorix,  feeling  that  at  last  the  game  was  in 
his  hands. 

But  Mamercus  had  made  of  his  young  patron  an  apt  pupil. 
All  the  fighting  blood  of  the  grei.t  Livian  house,  of  the  con- 
sulars  and  triumphators,  was  mantling  in  Drusus's  veins,  and 
he  threw  himself  into  the  struggle  with  the  deliberate  courage 
of  an  experienced  warrior.  His  short-sword,  too,  founa  its 
victims;  and  across  Falto's  body  soon  were  piled  more  *  nd 
now  Drusus  was  not  alone.  For  in  from  the  barns  und  3 
came  running  first  the  servants  from  the  stables,  armed  ft  xch 
mattocks  and  muck-forks,  and  then  the  farm-hands  with  their 
scythes  and  reaping  hooks. 

"We  shall  never  force  these  doors,"  exclaimed  Gabinius,  in 
despair,  as  he  saw  the  dei  .iders  augmenting. 


:;    |, 


1  About  $400. 


186 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


Dumnorix  turned  to  his  men. 

"Go,  some  of  you.  Enter  from  behind!  Take  this  rabble 
from  the  reax-.     In  fair  fight  v,e  can  soon  mastev  it." 

A  part  of  the  gladiators  started  to  leave  the  atrium,  Gabinius 
with  them.  An  instant  later  he  had  rushed  back  in  blank 
dismay. 

"  Horsemen !  They  are  dismounting  before  the  house.  Tliere 
are  more  than  a  score  of  them.     We  shall  be  cut  to  pieces." 

"We  have  Tuore  than  fifty,"  retorted  Dumnorix,  viciously. 
"  I  will  sacrifice  them  all,  rather  than  have  the  attack  fail !  —  " 
But  before  he  could  speak  further,  to  the  din  of  the  fighting  at 
the  doors  of  the  peristylium  was  added  a  second  clamour  with- 
out. And  into  the  atrium,  sword  in  hand,  burst  Caius  Curio, 
and  another  young,  handsome,  aquiline-featured  man,  dressed 
in  a  low-girt  tunic,  with  a  loose,  coarse  mantle  above  it,  —a 
man  known  to  history  as  Marcus  Antonius,  or  "  Marc  Antony  " ; 
and  at  their  backs  were  twenty  men  in  full  armour. 

The  courage  of  the  lanista  had  failed  him.  Already  Drusus's 
reinforcements  in  the  peristylium  had  become  so  numerous  and 
so  well  armed  that  the  young  chieftain  was  pushing  back  the 
gladiators  and  rapidly  assuming  the  offensive.  Gabinius  was 
the  first  to  take  flight.  He  plunged  into  one  of  the  rooms  off 
the  atrium,  and  through  a  side  door  gained  the  open.  The 
demr'alized  and  beaten  gladiators  followed  him,  like  a  flock  of 
sheep.  Only  Dumnorix  and  two  or  three  of  his  best  men  stood 
at  the  exit  long  enough  to  cover,  in  some  measure,  the  retreat. 
Once  outside,  the  late  assailants  gained  a  temporary  respite, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  the  defenders  had  been  disorganized  by 
their  very  victory. 

"We  have  lost,"  groaned  Gabinius,  as  the  lanista  drew  his 
men  together  in  a  compact  body,  before  commencing  his 
retreat. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR 


187 


"We  are  alive,"  growled  Dumnorix. 

"We  cannot  go  back  to  Rome,"  moaned  the  other.  "We 
are  all  identified.     No  bribe  or  favour  can  save  us  now." 

"A  robber's  life  is  still  left,"  retorted  Dumrorix,  "and  we 
must  make  of  it  what  we  can.  Some  of  my  men  know  these 
parts,  where  they  have  been  slaves,  before  coramg  to  my  hands. 
We  must  strike  off  for  the  mountains,  if  we  live  to  get  there." 

All  that  day  the  country  was  in  a  turmoil.  The  Praenestean 
senate  had  met  in  hastj  session,  and  the  deacrions^  ordered 
the  entire  community  under  arms  to  hunt  down  the  disturbers 
of  the  peace.  Not  until  nightfall  did  Dumnorix  and  .-  mere- 
remnant  of  his  band  find  themselves  able,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  darkness,  to  shak  o.T  the  pursuit.  Gabinius  was  still 
with  him.  Curio  and  Antonius  had  chased  them  down  with 
their  horsemen;  many  of  the  gladiators  had  been  slain,  many 
more  taken.  For  the  survivors  onl  the  life  of  outlaws  re- 
mained. The  ^istnesses  of  the  Apennines  were  their  sole 
safety;  and  thither  —  scarce  daring  to  stop  to  pillage  for 
victuals  —  they  hurried  their  weary  steps. 

Ill 

Lucius  Ahenobarbus  spent  that  day  in  frightful  anxiety. 
One  moment  he  was  fingering  Drusus's  money  bags ;  the  next 
haunted  by  the  murdered  man's  ghost.  When  he  called  on 
Cornelia,  her  slaves  said  she  had  a  headache  and  would  receive 
no  one.  Pratinas  held  aloof.  No  news  all  day  — the  sus- 
pense became  unendurable.  He  lived  through  the  following 
night  harassed  by  waking  visions  of  every  conceivable  ca- 
lamity;  but  toward  morning  fell  asleep,  and  as  was  his  wont, 
awoke  late.  The  first  friend  he  met  on  the  street  was  Calvus, 
the  J  jung  poet  and  orator. 

'  Local  municipal  magistrates. 


188 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


"  Have  you  heard  the  news  from  Praeneste  ?  "  begar  Calvua 

"  News  ?    What  news  ?  " 

"  \Vhy,  how  Dumnorix's  gang  of  gladiators  attacked  the 
villa  of  your  distant  relative,  Quintus  Drusus,  and  were  beaten 
off,  while  they  tried  to  murder  him.  A  most  daring  attempt ! 
But  you  will  hear  all  about  it.  I  have  a  case  at  the  courts  and 
cannot  linger." 

And  Calvus  was  gone,  leaving  Ahenobarbus  as  though  he 
had  been  cudgelled  into  numbness.  With  a  great  effort  he  col- 
lected himself.  After  all,  Dumnorix's  gladiators  were  nothing 
to  him.  And  when  later  he  found  that  neither  Dumnorix,  nor 
Gabinius,  nor  Phaon  had  bp-i  taken  or  slain  at  Prseneste,  he 
breathed  .he  easier.  No  oi.n  else  except  Pratinas,  he  was  cer- 
tain, knew  why  the  lanista  had  made  his  attack;  and  there 
was  no  danger  of  being  charged  with  complicity  in  the  conspir- 
acy. And  so  he  was  able  to  bear  the  stroke  of  ill-fortune  with 
some  equanimity,  and  at  last  rejoice  that  his  dreams  woiUd  no 
longer  be  haunted  by  the  shade  of  Drusus.  He  was  in  no 
mood  to  meet  Pratinas,  and  the  smooth  Greek  evidently  did 
not  care  to  meet  him.  He  went  around  to  visit  Cornelia  again 
—  she  was  still  quite  indisposed.  So  he  spent  that  morning 
with  Servius  Flaccus  playing  draughts,  a  game  at  which  his 
opponent  was  so  excessively  stupid  that  Ahenobarbus  won  at 
pleasure,  and  consequently  found  himself  after  lunch  >  in  a 
moderately  equable  humour.  Then  it  was  he  was  agreeably 
surprised  to  receive  the  following  note  from  Cornelia. 

"  Cornelia  to  her  dearest  Lucius,  greeting. 

I  have  been  very  miserable  these  past  two  days,  but  this 
afternoon  will  be  better.  Come  and  visit  me  and  my  uncle, 
for  there  are  several  things  I  would  be  glad  to  say  before  you 
both.     Farewell." 

1  Prandium. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR     189 

"I  think,"  remarked  Lucius  to  himself,  "that  the  girl  wants 
to  have  the  wedding-day  hastened.  I  know  of  nothing  else  to 
make  her  desire  both  Lentulus  and  myself  at  once.  I  want  to 
see  her  alone.  Well,  I  cannot  complain.  I'll  have  Drusus's 
bride,  even  if  I  can't  have  his  money  or  his  life." 

And  so  deliberating,  he  put  on  his  finest  saffron-tinted  syn- 
thesis, his  most  elegant  set  of  rings,  his  newest  pair  of  black 
shoes,'  and  spent  half  an  hour  with  his  hairdresser;  and  thus 
habited  he  repaired  to  the  house  of  the  Lentuli. 

"The  Lady  Cornelia  is  in  the  Corinthian  hall,"  announced 
the  slave  who  carried  in  th?  news  of  his  coming,  "  and  there 
she  awaits  you." 

Lucius,  nothing  loth,  followed  the  servant.     A  moment  and 
he  was  in  the  large  room.    It  was  empty.    The  great  marble 
pillars  rose  cold  and  magnificent  in  four  stately  rows,  on  all 
sides  of  the  high--aulted  apartment.    On  the  walls  Cupids 
and  blithesome  nymphs  were  careering  in  fresco.     The  floor 
was  soft  with  carpets.    A  dull  scent  of  burning  incense  from 
a  little  brazier,  smoking  before  a  bronze  Minerva,  in  one 
comer  of  the  room,  hung  heavy  on  the  air.     The  sun  was 
shining  warm  and  bright  without,  but  the  windows  of  the  hall 
were  small  and  high  and  the  shutters  also  were  drawn.    Every- 
thing was  cool,  still,  and  dark.    Only  through  a  single  aper- 
ture shot  a  clear  ray  of  sunlight,  and  stretched  in  a  radiant  bar 
across  the  gaudy  carpets. 

Lucius  stumbled,  half  groping,  into  a  chair,  and  seated  him- 
self. Cornelia  had  never  received  him  thus  before.  What 
was  she  preparing?  Another  moment  and  Lentulus  Crus 
entered  the  darkened  hall. 

"Perpol!  Ahenobarbus,"  he  cried,  aa  he  came  across  his 
prospective  nephew-in-law,  «  what  can  Cornelia  be  wanting  of 
'  Black  shoes  were  worn  as  a  sort  of  badge  by  equitea. 


M> 


190 


A  FRIEND  OF  CyESAB 


us  both  ?  And  in  this  place  ?  I  can't  imagine.  Ah !  Those 
were  strange  doings  yesterday  up  in  Praeneste.  I  would 
hardly  have  put  on  mourning  if  Drusus  had  been  ferried  over 
the  Styx ;  but  it  was  a  bold  way  to  attack  him.  I  don't  know 
that  he  has  an  enemy  in  the  world  except  myself,  and  I  can 
bide  my  time  and  pay  off  old  scores  at  leisure.  Who  could  have 
been  back  of  Dumnorix  when  he  blundered  so  evidently  ?  " 

Ahenobarbus  felt  that  it  was  hardly  possible  Lentulus  w.uld 
condemn  his  plot  very  severely;  but  he  replied  diplomati- 
cally:— 

"  One  has  always  plenty  of  enemies." 
"  Mehercle  !  of  course,"  laughed  the    consul-elect,  « what 
would  life  be  without  the  pleasure  of  revenge !    But  why  does 
my  niece  keep  us  waiting?     Jupiter,  what  can  she  want  of 
us?" 

"Uncle,  Lucius,  I  am  here."  And  before  them,  standing 
illumined  in  the  panel  of  sunlight,  stood  Cornelia.  Ahenobar- 
bus had  never  seen  her  so  beautiful  before.  She  wore  a  flowing 
violet-tinted  stola,  that  tumbled  in  soft,  silky  flounces  down 
to  her  ankles,  and  from  beneath  it  peered  the  tint  of  her 
shapely  feet  bound  to  thin  sandals  by  bright  red  ribbons. 
Her  bare  rounded  arms  were  clasped  above  and  below  the 
elbow  and  at  the  vsrrists  by  circlets  shaped  as  coiled  serpents, 
whose  eyes  were  gleaming  rubies.  At  her  white  throat  was 
fastened  a  necklace  of  interlinked  jewel-set  gold  pendants 
that  shimmered  on  her  half-bare  shoulders  and  breast.  In 
each  ear  was  the  lustre  of  a  great  pearl.  Her  thick  black  hair 
fell  unconfined  down  her  back ;  across  her  brow  was  a  frontlet 
blazing  with  great  diamonds,  Avith  one  huge  sapphire  in  their 
midst.  As  she  stood  in  the  sunlight  she  was  as  a  goddess,  an 
Aphrodite  descended  from  Olympus,  to  drive  men  to  sweet 
madness  by  the  ravishing  puissance  of  her  charms. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR  191 

"  Cornelia! "  cried  Lu'^ius,  with  all  the  fierce  impure  admira- 
tion of  his  nature  welling  up  in  his  black  heart,  "you  are  an 
immortal!  Let  me  throw  my  arms  about  you!  Let  me  kiss 
you!  Kiss  your  neck  but  once!"  And  he  took  a  step 
forward. 

"Be  quiet,  Lucius,"  said  Cornelia,  speaking  slowly  and  with 
as  little  passion  as  a  sculptured  marble  endued  with  the  powers 
of  speech.  "We  have  other  things  to  talk  of  now.  That  is 
why  I  have  called  you  here ;  you  and  my  uncle." 

"Cornelia!"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  shrinking  back  as 
though  a  sight  of  some  awful  mystery  had  stricken  him  with 
trembling  reverence, "  why  do  you  look  at  me  so  ?  Why  do  your 
eyes  fasten  on  me  that  way  ?    What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  » 

It  was  as  if  he  had  never  spoken.  Cornelia  continued 
steadily,  looking  straight  before  her. 

"  Uncle,  is  it  your  wish  that  I  become  the  wife  of  Lucius 
Ahenobarbus  ?  " 

"  You  know  it  is,"  replied  Lentulus,  a  little  uneasily.  He 
could  not  see  where  this  bit  of  affection  on  the  part  of  his 
niece  would  end.  He  had  never  heard  her  speak  in  such  a  tone 
before. 

"I  think,  uncle,"  went  on  Cornelia,  "that  before  we  say  any- 
thing  further  it  will  be  well  to  read  this  letter.  It  was  sent  to 
me,  but  both  you  and  Lucius  will  find  it  of  some  interest." 
And  she  held  out  two  or  three  wax  tablets. 

Lentulus  took  them,  eager  to  have  done  with  the  by-play. 
But  when  he  saw  on  the  binding-cords  the  seal  —which,  though 
broken,  still  showed  its  impression  —  he  gave  a  start  and 
exclamation. 

"Perpol!    The  seal  of  Sextus  Flaccus,  the  great  capitalist." 

"Certainly,  why  should  it  not  be  from  him ? " 

Lentulus  stepped  nearer  '-   the  light,  and  read;  Lucius 


192 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


standing  by  and  hanging  on  every  word,  Cornelia  remaining 
at  her  previous  station  rgid  as  the  bronze  faun  on  the  pedes- 
tal at  her  elbow.    Lentulus  read :  — 

"  Sextus  Fulvius  Flaccus,  to  the  most  noble  lady  Cornelia:  — 

If  you  are  well  it  h  well  with  me. 

Perhaps  you  have  heard  how  the  plots  of  the  conspirators 
against  my  dear  friend  and  financial  client  Quintus  Drusus 
have  been  frustrated,  thanks,  next  to  the  god,  to  the  wit  and 
dexterity  of  Agias,  who  has  been  of  late  your  slave.    Drusus 
as  soon  as  he  had  fairly  beaten  off  the  gladiators  sent  at  once 
for  me,  to  aid  him  and  certain  other  of  his  friends  in  taking 
the  confession  of  one  Phaon,  the  freedman  of  Lucius  Aheuo- 
barbus,  whom  Agias  had  contrived  to  entrap  in  dahii,  and  hold 
prisoner  until  the  danger  was  over.    Phaon's  confession  puts 
us  in  complete  possession  of  all  the  schemes  of  the  plotters ; 
and  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  inform  that  worthy  young  gen- 
tleman, Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  that  I  only  forbear  to  prosecute 
him,  and  Pratinas,  who  really  made  him  his   supple  tool, 
because  I  am  a  peaceable  man  who  would  not  bring  scandal 
upon  an  old  and  noble  family.     If,  however,  anything  sh  j    d 
befall  Drusus  which  should  indicate  that  fresh  plots  agai^it 
his  life  were  on  foot,  let  Ahenobarbus  be  assured  that  I  can  no 
more  regard  him  so  leniently.    I  may  add  that  since  it  was 
through  a  marriage  with  you  that  Ahenobarbus  expected  to 
profit  by  the  murder,  I  have  already  advised  Dru&us  that, 
according  to  the  decisions  of  several  of  the  most  eminent 
jurisconaulti,^  a  property  provision  such  as  his  father  inserted 
in  his  will  would  not  be  binding,  especially  in  view  of  the 
present  facts  of  the  case.    Drusus  has  accordingly  prepared  a 
new  will  which,  if  questioned,  I  shall  defend  in  the  courts  with 
all  my  power.    Farewell." 

1  Expounders  of  the  Soman  law. 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR     193 

.    Lentulus  turned  and  glared  with  sullen  amazement  at  his 
mece.      That  Ahenobarbus  should  conspire  against  Drusas 
seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.    That  the  nc  vj, 
that  the   conspiracy  had   failed  should  come  from  such  a 
quarter,  and  through  the  hands  of  his  own  niece,  at  once  terri- 
fied and  angered  him.    Luciu-  was  standing  gaping,  in  half 
horror,  half  fascination,  at  Cornelia.     Had  she  not  urged  him 
on?    Had  she  not  almost  expressed  her  wish  for  Drusus's 
blooi?    The  name  of  Flaccus  fell  on  his  heart  like  a  stone; 
for  the  great  banker  never  went  back  when  he  had  taken  a 
stand,  and  was  rich  enough  to  corrupt  the  most  lax  and  mer- 
ciful jury.    Ahenobarbus  felt  a  trap  snap  upon  him,  and  yet 
he  had  no  hope  of  revenge. 

"Cornelia,"  cried  Lentulus,  re-aining  at  last  the  powers  of 
speech,  «  why  was  this  letter  sent  to  you  ?  What  to  you  is 
that  wretched  youth,  Quintus  D.  dsus,  who  escaped  a  fate  he 
richly  deserved?  Why  do  you  not  condole  with  your  lover 
on  his  misfortune?  What  do  >ou  mean  by  your  stony  stare 
your — "  * 

"I  mean,"  retorted  Cornelia,  every  .  jrd  coming  as  a  deep 
pant  from  her  heaving  chest,  while  her  fingers  clasped  and 
unclasped  nervously,  and  the  bluod  surged  to  her  pallid 
cheeks,  "I  mean  that  I  need  no  longer  profess  to  love  what 
I  hate;  to  cherish  vhat  I  despise;  to  fondle  what  I  loathe; 
to  cast  soft  looks  on  that  which  I  would  pierce  \  h  daggers !" 
And  she  iu  turn  took  a  step,  quick  and  menacing,  toward  her 
wretched  lover,  who  cowered  and  shrank  back  into  the  shadow 
of  a  pillar. 

"  But  you  yourself  said  you  hoped  I  would  soon  rid  you  of 
Drusus,"  howled  Lucius. 

"Fool!"  hissed  the  woman,  through  her  clenched  teeth. 
"Didn't  you  know  that  aU  that  I  said,  all  that  I  did,  all  that  I 


>tl 


194 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


thought,  was  for  this  end  —  how  might  I  save  Quintus  by  learn- 
ing  the  plans  of  the  wretch  who  thirsted  for  his  blood?  Do 
you  feel  paid,  now,  for  all  your  labours  to  secure  the 
wealth  of  a  man  whose  name  should  not  be  uttered  beside 
that  of  yours?" 

"And  you  do  not  love  me!"  screamed  Ahenobarbus, 
springing  at  her,  as  if  to  force  his  arms  around  her  neck. 
"Dog!"  and  Cornelia  smote  him  so  fairly  in  the  face  that 
he  shrank  back,  and  pressed  his  hand  to  a  swelling  cheek. 
"  I  said  I  hated  and  despised  you.  What  I  despise,  though,  is 
beneath  my  hate.  I  would  tread  on  you  as  on  a  viper  or  a 
desert  asp,  as  a  noxious  creature  that  is  not  fit  to  live.  I  have 
played  my  game ;  and  though  it  was  not  I  who  won,  but  Agias 
who  won  for  me,  I  am  well-  content.  Drusus  lives  !  Lives  to 
see  you  miserably  dead !  Lives  to  grow  to  glory  and  honour, 
to  happiness  and  a  noble  old  age,  when  the  worms  have  long 
since  finished  their  work  on  you !  " 

"Girl,"  thundered  Lentulus,  fiercely,  "you  are  raving! 
Ahenobarbus  is  your  affianced  husband.  Rome  knows  it. 
f  will  compel  you  to  marry  him.  Otherwise  you  may  well 
olush  to  think  of  the  stories  that  vulgar  report  will  fasten 
around  your  name." 

But  Cornelia  faced  him  in  turn,  and  threw  her  white  arms 
aloft  as  though  calling  down  some  mightier  power  than  human 
to  her  aid ;  and  her  words  came  fast :  — 

"  What  Rome  says  is  not  what  my  heart  says !  My  heart 
tells  me  that  I  am  pure  where  others  are  vile;  that  I  keep 
truth  where  others  are  false ;  that  I  love  honourably  where 
others  love  dishonourably.  I  knew  the  cost  of  what  T  would 
do  for  Drusus's  sake ;  and,  though  the  vilest  slave  gibber  and 
point  at  me,  I  would  hold  my  head  as  proudly  as  did  ever  a 
Cornelian  or  Claudian  maiden;  for  I  have  done  that  which 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR  195 

my  owu  heart  tells  me  was  right;  and  more  than  that  or  less 
than  that,  can  no  true  woman  do ! " 

Ahenobarbus  felt  the  room  spinning  round  him.  He  saw 
himself  ruined  in  everything  that  he  had  held  dear.  He 
would  be  the  laughing-stock  of  Rome;  he,  the  hero  of  a 
score  of  amorous  escapades,  the  darling  of  as  many  patrician 
maidens,  jilted  by  the  one  woman  to  whom  he  had  become 
the  abject  slave.     Courage  came  from  despair. 

"Be  silent!"  he  gasped,  his  face  black  with  fury.  "If 
every  word  you  say  were  true,  yet  with  all  the  more  reason 
would  I  drag  you  in  my  marriage  procession,  and  force  you 
to  avow  yourself  my  wife.  Never  have  I  been  balked  of 
woman;  and  you,  too,  with  all  your  tragic  bathos,  shall  learn 
that,  if  you  won't  have  me  for  a  slave,  I'll  bow  your  neck  to 
my  yoke." 

"I  think  the  very  noble  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,"  replied 
Cornelia,  in  that  high  pitch  of  excitement  which  produces  a 
calm  more  terrible  than  any  open  fury,  "  will  in  person  be 
the  protagonist  in  a  tragedy  very  sorry  for  himself.  For  I 
can  assure  him  that  if  he  tries  to  make  good  his  threat,  I 
shall  show  myself  one  of  the  Danaides,  and  he  will  need  his 
funeral  feast  full  soon  after  the  wedding  banquet." 

"Woman!"  and  Lentulus,  thoroughly  exasperated,  broke  in 
furiously.  «  Say  another  word,  and  I  with  my  own  hands  will 
flog  you  like  a  common  slave." 

Cornelia  laughed  hysterically. 

" Touch  me! "  she  shouted ;  and  in  her  grasp  shone  a  small 
bright  dagger. 

Lentulus  fell  back.  There  was  something  about  his  niece 
that  warned  him  to  be  careful. 

"  Wretched  girl !"  he  commanded,  "put  down  that  dagger." 
"  I  will  not,"  and  Cornelia  stood  resolutely,  confronting  her 


lil- 


i 


» 


196 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


two  persecators;  her  head  thrown  back,  and  the  light  making 
her  throat  and  face  shine  white  as  driven  snow. 

There  was  very  little  chivalry  among  the  ancients.  Lentulus 
deliberately  clapped  his  hands,  and  two  serving-men  appeared. 

"  Take  that  dagger  from  the  Lady  Cornelia ! "  commanded  the 
master.  The  men  exchanged  sly  glances,  and  advanced  to  ac- 
complish the  disarming. 

But  before  they  could  catch  Cornelia's  slender  wrists  in  their 
coarse,  rough  hands,  and  tear  the  little  weapon  from  her,  there 
were  cuts  and  c:  .shes  on  their  own  arms;  for  the  struggle  if 
brief  was  vicious.    Cornelia  stood  disarmed. 

"  You  see  what  these  mock  heroics  will  lead  to,"  commented 
Lentulus,  with  sarcastic  smile,  as  he  observed  his  order  had 
been  obeyed. 

"  Tou  will  see ! "  was  her  quick  retort. 

"Hei!  fiei!"  screamed  one  of  the  slaves  an  instant  later, 
sinking  to  the  floor.  «  Poison !  It's  running  through  my  veins ! 
I  shall  die ! " 

"  You  will  die,"  repeated  Cornelia,  in  ineffable  scorn,  spurn- 
ing the  wretch  with  her  foot.  "Lie  there  and  die!  Cease 
breathing;  sleep!  And  that  creature,  Ahenobarbus,  yonder, 
shall  sleep  his  sleep  too,  ere  he  work  his  will  on  me !  Ha !  ha ! 
Look  at  my  handiwork ;  the  other  slave  is  down ! " 

«  Girl !  Murderess ! "  raged  Lentulus.  "  What  is  this  ?  You 
have  slain  these  men." 

"  I  have  slain  your  slaves,"  said  Cornelia,  resolutely  folding 
her  arms ;  "  the  poison  on  the  dagger  was  very  swift.  You  did 
excellently  well,  Lucius,  not  to  come  near  me."  And  she  picked 
up  the  dagger,  which  the  slave,  writhing  in  agony,  had  dropped. 

"Do  you  wish  to  attack  me  again?  Phy!  I  have  more  re- 
sources than  this.  This  venom  works  too  quickly.  See,  Syrax 
is  already  out  of  his  misery ;  and  his  fellow  will  soon  be  beyond 


197 


you 


MAMERCUS  GUARDS  THE  DOOR 

reach  of  woe.  When  I  strike  you,  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  you 
shaJl  die  slowly,  that  I  may  enjoy  your  pain.  What  need  have 
I  of  this  weapon  ?  »  And  she  flung  the  dagger  across  the  carpet 
so  that  It  struck  on  the  farther  wall.  "Pick  it  up,  and  come 
and  kill  me  if  you  wish  !  Drusus  lives,  and  in  him  I  live  for 
him  I  live,  and  by  him  I  live.  And  you-and  you  are  but  as 
evil  dreams  in  the  first  watch  ul  a  night  which  shall  be  forgot- 
ten either  in  sweet  unending  slumbers,  or  the  brightness  of  the 
morning.  And  now  I  Lave  spoken.  Do  with  me  as  it  lies  in 
your  power  to  do ;  but  remember  what  power  is  mine.     Vale  !  " 

And  Cornelia  vanished  from  the  darkened  hall.  The  two 
men  heard  the  click  of  the  door,  and  turned  and  gazed  blankly 
into  one  another's  faces. 

"The  gods  defend  me,  but  I  shall  be  yoked  to  one  of  the 
Dirae ! "  stammered  Ahenobarbus. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THB  OBEAT  PB0C0K8UL 


The  plot  was  *oiled.  Drusus  was  unquestionably  safe.  So 
long  as  Flaccus  had  the  affidavits  of  Phaon's  confe^oion  and 
the  depositions  of  the  captured  gladiators  stored  a^/ay  in  his 
strong-box,  neither  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  nor  the  ever  versatile 
Pratinas  would  be  likely  to  risk  a  new  conspiracy  —  especially 
as  their  intended  victim  had  carefully  drawn  up  a  will  leaving 
the  bulk  of  his  property  to  Titu3  Mamercus  and  ^Emilia. 
Drusus  had  no  near  relatives,  except  Fabia  and  Livia;  unless 
the  Al.Bnobarbi  were  to  be  counted  such;  and  it  pleased  him 
to  think  that  if  aught  befell  liim  the  worthy  children  of  his 
aged  defender  would  acquire  opulence. 

But  after  the  excitement  was  over,  after  Phaon  had  been 
brought  up  from  the  inn  at  Gabii  to  Praeneste,  and  there  had 
the  truth  wormed  out  of  him  by  the  merciless  cross-examina- 
tion of  Curio  and  Flaccus;  after  the  freedman  had  been  suffered 
to  depart  with  a  warning  and  threat  to  his  prompters,  after 
the  captured  gladiators  had  been  crucified  along  the  roadway 
leading  toward  Koine,  and  the  wreck  left  in  the  atrium  of  the 
villa  caused  by  the  attack  had  been  cleared  away,  —after  all 
this,  then  the  reaction  came.  Drusus,  indeed,  found  that 
though  the  sun  shone  bright,  its  brightness  was  not  for  him. 
He  had  friends  in  plenty;  but  not  such  friends  as  he  needed 

198 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL  199 

-as  his  heart  craved.  Truth  to  tell,  he  was  one  of  those 
more  delicate  natures  to  whom  the  average  picy  and  the 
ordinary  demonstrations  of  sympathy  come  with  an  offending 
jar  and  open,  not  heal,  long-festering  wounds.  Curio  wa« 
kind,  but  could  only  hold  out  the  vaguest  hopes  that,  for  the 
present  at  least,  anything  would  compel  the  consul-elect  to 
consent  to  his  niece's  marriage  with  a  mortal  enemy.     Flaccus 

r     ^^\^.T^  ^"^'^"''-     ^^'  hard-headed  man  of  money 
thought  that  Drusus  was  a  visionary,  to  be  so  distraught  over 
the  loss  of  a  wife -as  if  the  possession  of  a  fortune  of  thirty 
odd  millions  did  not  make  up  for  every  possible  calamity 
Antonius  was  still  less  happy  in  his  efforts  at  consolation. 
This  dashing  young  politician,  who  had  been  equally  at  home 
basking  m  the  eyes  of  the  young  Egyptian  princess,  Cleopatra, 
eight  years  before,  when  he  was  in  the  East  with  Aulus  Gabin' 
lus,  or  when  fighting  the  Gauls  as  he  had  until  recently  under 
his  uncle  the  great  proconsul,  _  had  now  been  elected  Tribune 
of  the  Plebs  for  the  coming  year;  and  was  looking  forward  to 
a  prosperous  and  glorious  career  in  statecraft.     He  had  had 
many  a  love  intrigue,  and  made  such  matters  a  sort  of  recrea- 
tion to  the  real  business  of  life.     Why  Drusus  -  who  certainly 
had  very  fair  worldly  ,   ospects  before  him -should  not  con- 
sole himself  for  one  ^         cessful  passage  of  arms  with  Cupid, 
by  straightway  engaj,        in  another,  he  could  not  see.     He 
plainly  intimated  to  his  friend  that  there  were  a  great  many 
women,  almost  if  not  quite  as  good  looking  as  Cornelia,  who 
would  survey  him  with  friendly  eyes  if  he  made  but  a  few 
advances     And  Drusus,  wounded  and  stung,  was  thrown  back 
on  himself;  and  within  himself  he  found  very  little  comfort 

Although  he  believed  himself  safe  at  last  from  the  wiles  of 
Ahenobarbus  and  his  Greek  coadjutors,  there  was  still  a  great 
dread  which  would  steal  over  Drusus  lest  at  any  moment  a 


^^i  fl 


200 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


stroke  might  fall.  Those  were  days  when  children  murdered 
parents,  wives  husbands,  for  whim  or  passion,  and  very  little 
came  to  punish  their  guilt.  The  snramble  for  money  was 
universal  Drusus  looked  forth  into  ^nc  world,  and  saw  little 
in  it  that  was  good.  He  had  tried  to  cherish  an  ideal,  and 
found  fidelity  to  it  more  than  difficult.  His  philosophy 
did  not  assure  him  that  a  real  deity  existed.  Death  ended 
ail.  Was  it  not  better  to  be  done  with  the  sham  of  life; 
to  drink  the  Lethe  water,  and  sink  into  eternal,  dreamless 
slumber?  He  longed  unspeakably  to  see  Cornelia  face  to  face; 
to  kiss  her;  to  press  her  in  his  arms;  and  the  desire  grew  and 
grew. 

She  was  no  longer  in  the  capital.  Her  uncle  had  sent  her 
away  —  guarded  by  trusty  freedmen — to  the  villa  of  the 
Lentuli  at  Baise.  The  fashionable  circles  of  the  great  city 
had  made  of  her  name  a  three  days'  scandal,  f  which  the 
echo  all  too  often  came  to  Drusus's  outraged  ears.  His  only 
comfort  was  that  Ahenobarbus  had  become  the  butt  and 
laughing-stock  of  every  one  who  knew  of  his  repulse  by  his 
last  inamorata.  Then  at  last  Drusus  left  Praeneste  for  Rome. 
Ahenobarbus  and  Pratinas  were  as  well  checked  as  it  was 
possible  they  could  be,  and  there  was  no  real  ground  to  dread 
assassination  while  in  the  city,  if  moderate  precautions  were 
taken.  Then  too  the  time  was  coming  when  the  young  man 
felt  that  he  could  accomplish  something  definite  for  the  party 
for  which  he  had  already  sacrificed  so  much. 

The  events  clustering  around  Dumnorix's  unsuccessful  attack 
had  made  Drusus  a  sort  of  hero  in  the  eyes  of  the  Praenesteans. 
They  had  years  before  elected  his  father  as  their  patron,  their 
legal  representative  at  Rome,  and  now  they  pitched  upon  the 
son,  proud  to  have  this  highly  honourable  function  continued 
in  the  same  family.    This  election  gave  Drusus  some  little 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL  201 

prestige  at  the  capital,  and  some  tanding  in  the  courts  and 
politics.  When  he  went  to  Rome  it  was  not  as  a  mere  indi- 
vidual who  had  to  carve  out  his  own  career,  but  as  a  man  of 
honour  in  his  own  country,  a  representative  of  a  considerable 
local  interest,  and  the  possessor  of  both  a  noble  pedigree  and 
an  ample  fortune. 

Curio  found  him  plenty  to  do ;  wire-pulling,  speech-mak- 
ing, private  bargaining,  —  all  these  were  rife,  for  everybody 
knew  that  with  the  first  of  January,  when  Lentulus  became 
consul,  the  fortunes  of  Caesar  were  to  be  made  or  marred  irre- 
trievably.    There  were  rumours,   always  rumours,  now  of 
Caesar,  now  of  Pompeius.     The  proconsul  was  going  to  march 
on  Rome  at  once,  and  put  all  his  enemies  to  the  sword. 
Pompeius  was  to  be  proclaimed  dictator  and  exterminate  all 
who  adhered  to  the  anti-senatorial  party.     And  into  this  mme 
of  factions  Drusus  threw  himself,  and  found  relief  and  inspira- 
tion in  the  conflict.     His  innate  common-sense,  a  very  con- 
siderable talent  for  oratory  which  had  received  a  moderate 
training,  his  energy,  his  enthusiasm,  his  incorruptibility,  his 
straightforwardness,  all  made  him  valuable  to  the  Csesarians, 
and  he  soon  found  himself  deep  in  the  counsels  of  his  party,' 
although  he  was  too  young  to  be  advanced  as  a  candidate  for 
any  public  office. 

Agias  continued  with  him.  He  had  never  formally  deeded 
the  boy  to  Cornelia,  and  now  it  was  not  safe  for  the  lad  to  be 
sent  to  dwell  at  Baiae,  possibly  to  fall  into  the  revengeful 
clutches  of  Phaon,  or  Pratinas,  or  Ahenobarbus.  Drusus  had 
rewarded  Agias  by  giving  him  his  freedom;  but  the  boy  had 
nowhere  to  go,  and  did  not  desire  to  leave  Quintus's  service; 
so  he  continued  as  a  general  assistant  and  understrapper,  to 
carry  important  letters  and  verbal  messages,  and  to  aid  his 
patron  in  every  case  where  quick  wits  or  nimble  feet  were 


i 

U'  \ 


202 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


useful.  He  went  once  to  Baiae,  and  came  back  with  a  letter 
from  Cornelia,  in  which  she  said  that  she  was  kept  actually  as 
a  prisoner  in  her  uncle's  villa,  and  that  Lentulus  still  threat- 
ened to  force  Ahenobarbus  upon  her;  but  that  she  had  pre- 
pared herself  for  that  final  emergency. 

The  letter  came  at  a  moment  when  Drusus  was  feelipg  the 
exhilaration  of  a  soldier  in  battle,  and  the  missive  was  depress- 
ing and  maddening.  What  did  it  profit  if  the  crowd  roared 
its  plaudits,  when  he  piled  execration  on  the  oligarchs  from 
the  Rostra,  if  all  his  eloquence  could  not  save  Cornelia  one 
pang?  Close  on  top  of  this  letter  came  another  disquieting 
piece  of  information,  although  it  was  only  what  he  had 
expected.  He  learned  that  Lentulus  Crus  had  marked  him 
out  personally  for  confiscation  of  property  and  death  as  a 
dangerous  agitator,  as  soon  as  the  Senate  could  decree  martial 
law.  To  have  even  a  conditional  sentence  of  death  hanging 
over  one  is  hard  to  bear  with  equanimity.  But  it  was  too  late 
for  Drusus  to  turn  back.  He  had  chosen  his  path;  he  had 
determined  on  the  sacrifice;  he  would  follow  it  to  the  end. 
And  from  one  source  great  comfort  came  to  him.  His  aunt, 
Fabia,  had  always  seen  in  him  her  hero.  With  no  children 
of  her  own,  with  very  little  knowledge  of  the  world,  she  had 
centred  all  her  hopes  and  ambitions  on  her  sister's  son;  and 
he  was  not  disappointing  her.  She  dreamed  of  him  as  consul, 
triumphator,  and  dictator.  She  told  him  her  hopes.  She 
applauded  his  sacrifice.  She  told  him  of  the  worthies  of  old, 
of  Camillus,  of  the  Scipios,  of  Marcellus,  the  "Sword  of 
Rome,"  of  Lucius  ^Emilius  Paulus,  and  a  host  of  others,  good 
men  and  true,  whose  names  were  graven  on  the  fabric  of  the 
great  Republic,  and  bade  him  emulate  them,  and  be  her  per- 
fect Fabian  and  Livian.  And  from  his  aunt  Drusus  gained 
infinite  courage.    If  she  was  not  Cornelia,  yet  it  was  a  boon 


I 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL 


203 


ineffable  to  be  able  to  hear  a  pure,  loving  woman  tell  him  face 
to  face  that  her  heart  suffered  when  he  suffered,  and  that  all 
his  hopes  and  fears  were  hers. 

Finally  an  interlude  came  to  Quintus's  political  activity. 
Curio  was  becoming  uneasy,  lest  his  distant  superior  should 
fail  to  realize  the  full  venom  of  the  Senate  party  and  the 
determination  of  his  enemies  to  work  his  ruin. 

"I  must  go  to  Ravenna,"  said  the  politician  to  his  young 
associate.  «  My  tribuneship  is  nearly  run  out.  Antonius  and 
Cassius  will  take  my  place  in  the  office.  And  you,  who  have 
done  so  much  for  Caesar,  must  go  also,  for  he  loves  to  meet  and 
to  know  all  who  are  his  friends." 

"To  Caesar  I  will  go,"  answered  Drusus;  and  of  himself 
he  asked,  "What  manner  of  man  will  this  prove,  whom  I  am 
serving?  A  selfish  grasper  of  power?  Or  will  he  be  what 
I  seek  —  a  man  with  an  ideal?" 


II 

Night  was  falling  on  the  dark  masses  of  the  huge  Prae- 
torium,  the  government-house  and  army  barracks  of  the  pro- 
vincial capital  of  Ravenna.  Outside,  sentinels  were  changing 
guard;  Roman  civil  officials  and  provincials  were  strolling  in 
the  cool  of  the  porticos.  Laughter,  the  shout  of  loungers  at 
play,  broke  the  evening  silence.  But  far  in  the  interior, 
where  there  was  a  secluded  suite  of  rooms,  nothing  but  the 
tinkle  of  a  water-duct  emptying  into  a  cistern  broke  the  still- 
ness, save  as  some  soft-footed  attendant  stole  in  and  out  across 
the  rich,  thick  carpet. 

The  room  was  small;  the  ceiling  low;  the  frescos  not  elabo- 
rate, but  of  admirable  simplicity  and  delicacy.  The  furniture 
comprised  merely  a  few  divans,  chairs,  and  tripods,  but  all  of 
the  choicest  wood  or  brass,  and  the  most  excellent  upholstery. 


I 


204 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


One  or  two  carved  wooden  cupboards  for  books  completed  the 
furnishings. 

There  were  only  two  persons  in  the  room.  One  of  them, — 
a  handsome  young  Hellene,  evidently  a  freedman,  was  sitting 
on  a  low  chair  with  an  open  roll  before  him.  His  companion 
half  sat  and  half  lay  on  a  divan  near  by.  This  second  person 
was  a  man  of  height  unusual  to  Italians  of  his  day;  his  cheeks 
were  pale  and  a  little  sunken;  his  dark  eyes  were  warm,  pene- 
trating; his  mouth  and  chin  mobile  and  even  affable,  but  not 
a  line  suggested  weakness.  The  forehead  was  high,  massive, 
and  was  exaggerated  by  a  semi-baldness  which  was  only  par- 
tially concealed  by  combing  the  dark,  grey-streaked  hair 
forward.  He  was  reclining;  if  he  had  arisen  he  would  have 
displayed  a  frame  at  once  to  be  called  soldierly,  though 
spare  and  hardly  powerful.  To  complete  the  figure  it  should 
be  added  that  on  one  finger  he  wore  a  large  ring  set  with  a 
very  beautiful  seal  of  an  armed  Venus ;  and  over  his  loose  but 
carefully  arranged  tunic  was  thrown  a  short,  red  maiitle, 
caught  together  on  the  left  shoulder  —  the  paludamentum,  a 
garment  only  worn  by  Roman  military  officers  of  the  very 
highest  rank. 

The  general  —  for  so  his  dress  proclaimed  him  —  was  play- 
ing with  a  stylus  and  a  waxen  tablet,  while  the  young 
Greek  read.  Now  and  then  he  would  bid  the  latter  pause 
while  he  made  a  few  notes.  The  book  was  Euripides's 
"Troades." 

"Read  those  lines  again,"  interrupted  the  general.  The 
voice  was  marvellously  flexile,  powerful,  and  melodious. 

And  the  freedman  repeated :  — 

"  Sow  far  and  wide,  plague,  famine,  and  distress ; 
Make  women  widows,  children  fatherless ; 
Break  down  the  altars  of  the  gods,  and  tread 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL 


205 


On  quiet  graves,  the  temples  of  the  dead ; 

Play  to  life's  end  this  wicked  witless  game 

And  you  will  win  what  knaves  and  fools  call  Fame  I " » 

The  freedman  waited  for  his  superior  to  ask  him  to  continue, 
but  the  request  did  not  come.  The  general  seemed  lost  in  a 
reverie;  his  expressive  dark  eyes  were  wandering  off  in  a  kind 
rf  quiet  melancholy,  gazing  at  the  glass  water-clock  at  the  end 
Cx     .e  room,  but  evidently  not  in  the  least  seeing  it. 

"I  havG  heard  enough  Euripides  to-day,"  at  length  he  re- 
marked. "I  nust  attend  to  more  important  matters.  You 
may  leave  me." 

The  Greek  rolled  up  the  volume,  placed  it  in  the  cupboard, 
and  left  the  room  with  noiseless  step.  The  general  had  arisen, 
and  was  standing  beside  the  open  window  that  looked  out  into 
a  quiet  little  court.  It  was  dark.  The  lamps  of  the  room 
threw  the  court-yard  into  a  sombre  relief.  Overhead,  in  the 
dimming,  violet  arch  of  the  sky,  one  or  two  faint  stars  were 
beginning  to  twinkle. 

"  Play  to  life's  end  this  wicked  witless  game 
And  you  will  win  what  knaves  and  fools  call  Fame! " 

repeated  the  general,  leaning  out  from  the  stone  work  of  the 
window-casing  in  order  to  catch  the  cool  air  of  the  court. 
"Yes,  fame,  the  fame  of  a  Xerxes;  perhaps  the  fame  of  a 
Hannibal— no,  I  wrong  the  Carthaginian,  for  he  at  least  struck 
for  his  country.  And  what  is  it  all  worth,  after  all?  Does 
Agamemnon  feel  that  his  glory  makes  the  realm  of  Hades 
more  tolerable?  Does  not  Homer  set  forth  Achilles  as  a 
warrior  with  renown  imperishable?  And  yet,  'Mock  me  not,' 
he  makes  the  shade  of  Achilles  say;  'Better  to  be  the  hireling 
of  a  stranger  and  serve  a  man  of  mean  estate,  whose  living  is 
but  small,  than  be  the  monarch  over  all  those  dead  and  gone.' " 

1  Translated  in  the  collection  "  Sales  Attici." 


206 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


The  general  leaned  yet  farther  out,  and  looked  upward. 
"These  were  the  stars  that  twinkled  over  the  Troy  of  Priam; 
these  were  the  stars  that  shone  on  Carthage  when  she  sent 
forth  her  armies  and  her  fleets,  and  nigh  drove  the  Greeks 
from  Sicily ;  and  these  are  the  stars  which  will  shine  when 
Rome  is  as  Troy  and  Carthage.    And  I -I  am  an  atom,  a 
creature  of  chance,  thrown  out  of  the  infinite  to  flash  like  a 
shooting  star  for  a  moment  across  a  blackened  firmament  and 
then  in  the   infinite  to  expire.      Cui  bono?    Why  should  I 
care  how  I  live  my  life,  since  in  a  twinkling  it  will  all  be  as 
if  it  had  never  been  ?    And  if  Cato  and  Domitius  and  Lentu- 
lus  Crus  have  their  way  with  me,  what  matter  ?    What  matter 
if  a  stab  in  the  dark,  or  open  violence,  or  the  sham  forms  of 
justice  end  this  poor  comedy  ?     I  and  all  others  play.     All 
ccT       r  is  tragedy,  and  at  its  merriest  is  but  dolorous  stuff. 
While  the  curtain  stays  down»  we  are  sorry  actors  with  the 
whole  world  for  our  audience,  and  the  hoots  mingle  full  often 
with  the  applause.     And  when  the  uu'au  rises,  that  which 
IS  good,  the  painstaking  effort,  the  labour,  is  quickly  forgotten ; 
the  blunders,  the  false  quantities  in  our  lives,  are  treasured  up 
to  be  flung  against  our  names.    We  play,  but  we  do  not  know 
our  parts;  we  are  (Edipus,  who  has  committed  unwitting  sin, 
and  yet  must  reap  his  reward;  we  are  Prometheus  who  is  to 
be  chained  to  the  rock  forever,  for  offending  the  god.  ;  we  are 
Orestes  whom  the  Eumenides  pursue,  chasing  him  do^  for 
his  guilt.    And  all  the  time  we  vainly  imagine  that  we  are 
some  victorious  hero,  some  Perseus,  especially  favoured  by  the 
gods  to  fare  scatheless  over  land  and  sea,  and  bear  away  the 
Medusa's  head,  and  live  renowned  and  happy  forever."    The 
reverie  was  becoming  deeper  and  deeper;  the  Roman  was  be- 
ginning no  longer  to  whisper  merely  to  himself,  he  was  half 

» The  ancient  curtain  (aulxum)  had  its  roUer  at  the  bottom. 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL 


2(n 


declaiming;  then  of  a  sudden,  by  a  quick  revolution  of  mind, 
he  broke  short  the  thread  of  his  monologue.  "  Phui !  Caius,  you 
are  ranting  as  if  you  were  still  a  youth  at  Rh<jdes,  and  Apol- 
lonius  Molo  were  just  teaching  you  rhetoric !  Why  has  no 
letter  come  from  Curio  to-day  ?  I  am  anxious  for  him.  There 
may  have  been  a  riot.  I  hadn't  expected  that  those  exceUent 
'Optimates'  would  begin  to  murder  tribunes  quite  so  soon. 
The  carrier  is  late ! "  and  the  general  moved  away  from  the 
window,  and  took  i,  i  a  cupboard  a  package  of  tablets,  which 
he  ran  over  hastily.  "  Here  are  the  despatches  of  yesterday. 
None  to-day.  I  fear  the  worst."  The  brow  of  the  solitary 
speaker  grew  darker.  «  Poor  Curio,  poor  Antonius ;  if  they've 
dared  to  murder  them,  let  them  tremble.  I  could  forgive  a 
mortal  enemy  to  myself,  but  not  one  who  had  slaughtered  a 
friend." 

There  were  steps  in  the  court  below,  and  voices  were  raised. 
In  an  instant  the  general's  eyes  were  kindled,  his  frame  on  a 
poise.  He  sprang  to  the  window,  and  shouted  down  the  dark 
court. 

"  Curio !    Do  I  hear  you  speaking  ?  " 

"Salve!  Caesar.     It  irf  I !  " 

"Venus  be  praised!"  and  the  proconsul,  with  almost  imdig- 
nified  haste,  was  running  out  upon  the  stairs  to  meet  his  friend. 
"  Has  the  city  broken  out  ?  Has  Antonius  been  murdered  ? 
Is  the  truce  at  an  end  ?    Are  you  alone  ?  " 

And  Curio,  who  did  not  quite  possess  his  leader's  ability  to 
"  do  all  things  at  the  same  time,"  answered  in  a  breath :  "  The 
city  so  far  keeps  tolerable  order.  Antonius  is  safe.  The  con- 
suls and  Senate  still  keep  the  peace ;  but  so  poorly  that  I 
thought  it  my  duty  to  come  to  you  and  say  things  that  cannot 
go  in  a  letter." 

"  And  who  is  this  young  man  with  you  ?" 


iili^^ 


208 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


"My  friend,"  said  Curio,  turning  to  his  companion,  "is 
Qumtus  Livius  Drusus,  of  whom  I  have  had  occasion  to  write 
no  little." 

The  proconsul  sprang  forward  and  seized  Drusus  by  both 
hands,  and  i.x)ked  him  fairly  in  the  eye. 

"Popce/  I  see  Sextus  Drusus  once  more,  the  best  tribune  in 
his  legion,  and  my  dear  friend.  Your  face  should  be  cause 
for  your  welcome,  if  nothing  else.  Ah!  how  much  we  shall 
have  to  say  !  But  you  are  travel-stained  and  weary.  Words 
will  keep  while  you  bathe,  and  our  dinner  is  prepared ;  for  I 
myself  have  not  dined,  waiting,  as  I  thought,  for  your  de- 
spatches." 

"  Your  excellency  shows  me  too  much  courtesy,"  said  Drusus, 
bowing  in  what  was,  to  tell  truth,  some  little  embarrassment  j 
"it  is  not  fit  that  a  young  man  like  myself  should  dine  at  the 
same  table  with  an  imperator  before  whom  nations  have 
trembled." 

And  then  it  was  that  Drusus  caught  his  first  glimpse  of 

that  noble  and  sententious  egotism  which  was  a  characteristic 

of  the  great  proconsul. 
"To  be  a  friend  of  Cajsar  is  to  be  the  peer  of  kings." 
Drusus  bowed  again,   and  then,  with  Curio,  followed  the 

attendants  who  were  leading  them  to  comfortably,  though  not 

sumptuously,  furnished  apartments. 

********** 
Quintus  Drusus  in  years  to  come  sat  at  the  boards  of  many 
great  men,  enjoyed  their  conversation,  entered  into  their  hopes 
and  fears,  but  he  never  forgot  the  first  dinner  with  the  procon- 
sul  of  the  Gauls.  Caesar  kept  a  double  table.  His  hospitality 
was  always  ready  for  the  people  of  note  of  the  di.strict  where 
he  happened  to  be  staying,  and  for  his  own  regular  army  offi- 
cers.   But  he  dined  personally  with  such  high-rank  Romans 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL 


209 


and  very  noble  Provincials  as  chanced  to  be  with  him  from 
day  to  day  To  this  last  select  company  Drusus  found  himself 
that  e'-iinii-  auuiitted  ;  and  in  fact  he  and  Curio  were  the  pro 
consu  8  only  i^rso;  il  guests.  The  dinner  itself  was  mor* 
remar  :aV:le  for  the  -efinement  of  the  whole  service,  the  exqui 
site  chasceueso  uf  ^he  decorations  of  the  dining  room,  the  excel 
lent  cooking  of  the-  dishes,  and  the  choiceness  of  the  wines, 
than  for  any  lavish  display  either  of  a  great  bill  of  fare,  or  of  ai% 
ostentatious  amount  of  splendour.  The  company  of  officers  anif 
gentlemen  of  the  Ravenna  district  dined  together  in  a  spacious 
hall,  where  Drusus  imagined  they  had  a  rather  more  bounteous 
repast  than  did  the  immediate  guests  of  their  entertainer.  At 
one  end  of  this  large  hall  was  a  broad  alcove,  raised  a  single 
step,  and  here  was  laid  the  dinner  for  the  proconsul.  Caesar 
passed  through  the  large  company  of  his  humbler  guests,  fol- 
lowed by  Curio  and  Drusus,  —  now  speaking  a  familiar  word 
to  a  favourite  centurion ;  now  congratulating  a  country  visitor 
on  his  election  to  his  local  Senate ;  now  introducing  the  new- 
comers  to  this  or  that  friend.  And  so  presently  Drusus  found 
himself  resting  on  his  elbow  on  the  same  couch  with  Caesar, 
while  Curio  occupied  the  other  end.  For  a  time  the  latter 
held  by  far  the  larger  part  of  the  conversation  in  his  hands. 
There  were  a  myriad  tales  to  tell  of  politics  at  the  capital,  a 
myriad  warnings  to  give.  Caesar  listened  to  them  all ;  and 
only  rarely  interrupted,  and  then  with  words  so  terse  and 
penetrating  that  Drusus  marvelled.  The  proconsul  seemed  to 
know  the  innermost  life  history  and  life  motives  of  everything 
and  everybody.  He  described  a  character  with  an  epithet; 
he  fathomed  a  political  problem  with  an  expletive.  Only  now 
and  then  did  his  words  or  motions  betray  any  deep  personal 
concern  or  anxiety,  and  once  only  did  Drusus  see  him  flush 
with  passiou. 


310 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


That  affair  of  the  magistrate  of  Coma,  to  whom  you  gave 
the  franchise,"  said  Curio,  «  was  extremely  unfortunate.  You 
of  course  heard  long  ago  how  Marcellus,  the  consul,  had  him 
beaten  with  rods  and  sent  home,  to  show »_  as  he  said -to 
you,  Caesar,  the  print  of  his  stripes." 

The  face  of  the  proconsul  reddened,  then  grew  black  with 
hardly  reined  fury. 

"Yes,  most  unfortunate  for  Marcellus."  It  was  all  that 
C«sar  said,  but  Drusus  would  not  have  exchanged  his  life  then, 
for  that  of  Marcellus,  for  a  thousand  talents  of  gold 

"And  our  dear  friend,  Cato,"  went  on  Curio,  who  was  per- 
haps  not  unwilling  to  stir  the  vials  of  his  superior's  wrath 
has  just  sworn  with  an  oath  in  public,  that  as  soon  as  your 
army  IS  disbanded  he  wih  press  an  impeachment  against  you; 
and  I  ve  heard  it  reported  that  you  will  be  compelled  to  plead, 
hke  Milo  when  he  was  tried  for  the  Clodius  affair,  before 
judges  overawed  by  armed  men." 

«I  anticipate  nu  such  proceeding,"  said  Caesar,  dryly,  in  an 
accent  of  infinite  contempt.     Then  turning  to  Drusus,  he 
entirely  changed  his  intonation. 
«  So  long,"  he  said,  with  a  shrug  of  his  rather  slight  shoulders, 
we  have  talked  of  comitias  and  senates !    Praise  to  the  gods, 
all  life  IS  not  passed  in  the  Forum  or  Curia!    And  now.  my 
dear  Quintus,  let  us  put  aside  those  tedious  matters  whereof 
we  all  three  have  talked  and  thought  quite  enough,  and  tell 
me  of  yourself;  for,  believe  me,  our  friendship  would  be  one- 
sided indeed,  if  all  your  trouble  and  exertion  went  for  me.  and 
you  received  no  solicitude  in  return." 
And  Drusus,  who  had  at  first  found  his  words  coming  awk- 

» Caesar  had  given  the  magistratM  of  towns  of  the  north  of  Italv  th«  Hnm«„ 
franchise:  no  Roman  citizens  could  be  lawfully  flogg^  By  W.aSlofZ^ 
ceUu.  denied  CaB«ir'.  right  to  confer  the  franchise.  ^  ^^ 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL 


211 


wardly  enough,  presently  grew  fluent  as  he  conversed  with  the 
proconsul.  He  told  of  his  student  days  at  Athens,  of  his  stud- 
ies  of  rhetoric  and  philosophy,  of  his  journey  back  to  Praeneste, 
and  the  incidents  of  the  sea  voyage,  and  land  travel ;  of  his 
welcome  at  Praeneste  by  the  old  retainers  and  the  familia  of 
the  Drusi,  and  then  of  his  recent  political  work  at  Rome. 

"These  have  been  the  chief  events  of  my  life,  Caesar,"  he 
concluded,  "and  since  you  have  condescended  to  hear,  I  have 
ventured  to  tell;  but  why  need  I  ask  if  such  a  commonplace 
tale  of  a  young  man  who  has  yet  his  life  to  live,  should  inter- 
est you  ?  " 

Caesar  smiled,  and  laying  down  the  beaker  from  which  he 
was  sipping  very  slowly,  replied  :  — 

"Mehercle  !  And  do  you  wish  to  have  all  your  exploits 
crowded  into  a  few  short  years  of  youth,  that  mature  age  will 
have  nothing  to  surpass?  Listen,  — I  believe  that  when  the 
historians,  by  whom  our  dear  Cicero  is  so  anxious  to  be  remem- 
bere(i  *-  -ourably,  write  their  books,  they  will  say  something 
of  .-.  .  e,  —  good  or  bad,  the  Genius  knows,  —  but  fame  at 
least  ..  ^ot  be  denied  me.  Twelve  years  ago  when  I  was  in 
Spain  I  was  reading  in  some  book  of  the  exploits  of  Alexander 
the  Great.  Suddenly  it  seemed  as  though  I  could  not  control 
myself.  I  began  to  weep ;  and  this  was  the  explanation  I  gave 
to  my  friends,  '  I  have  just  cause  to  weep,  when  I  consider  that 
Alexander  at  my  age  had  conquered  so  many  nations,  and  I 
have  3ll  this  time  done  nothing  that  is  memorable.*" 

"  But  even  when  your  excellency  went  into  Spain,"  remarked 
Drusus,  "you  had  done  thrt  which  should  have  given  renown. 
Consider,  you  had  won  the  praetorship,  the  office  of  Pontifex 
Maximus  —  " 

"St,"  interrupted  the  proconsul,  "a  list  of  titles  is  not  a 
pledge  from  Fortune  that  she  wUI  grant  fame.    Besides,  I  was 


212 


m 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


about  to  add  —  what  folly  it  was  for  me  to  weep !  Do  I  imagine 
now,  that  Alexander  was  happy  and  contented  in  the  midst  of 
his  conquests  ?  Rather,  unless  he  were,  indeed,  of  more  than 
mortal  stuff,  for  every  morsel  of  fame,  he  paid  a  talent  of  care 
and  anxiety.  Rush  not  too  quickly  after  fame ;  only  with  age 
comes  the  strength  to  pay  the  price  thereof." 

Drusus  was  half  wondering  at,  half  admiring,  the  unconscious 
comparison  the  proconsul  was  drawing  between  himself  and 
Alexander.    But  Caesar  went  on :  — 

"  But  you,  0  Drusus,  '  -e  not  dealt  honestly  with  me,  in 
that  you  have  failed  to  tell  u  :vhich  lies  nearest  your  heart, 
and  which  you  consider  the  pivot  of  all  your  present  life." 

Drusus  flushed,  "  Doubtless,  your  excellency  will  pardon  a 
young  man  for  speaking  with  diffidence  on  a  subject,  to  recol- 
lect which  is  to  cause  pain." 

Caesar  put  off  the  half-careless  air  of  the  good-natured  wit, 
which  he  had  been  affecting. 

"Quintus  Livius  Drusus,"  and  as  he  spoke,  his  auditor 
turned  as  if  magnetized  by  his  eye  and  voice,  and  hung  on 
every  word,  "  be  not  ashamed  to  own  to  me,  of  all  men,  that 
you  olaim  a  good  woman's  lovfe,  and  for  that  love  are  ready  to 
make  sacrifice." 

And  as  if  to  meet  a  flitting  thought  in  the  other's  mind,  Caesar 
continued :  — 

"No,  blush  not  before  me,  although  the  fashionable  world  of 
Rome  will  have  its  stories.  I  care  not  enough  for  such  gossip 
to  take  pains  to  say  it  lies.  But  this  would  I  have  declared, 
when  at  you.,  age,  and  let  all  the  world  hear,  that  I,  Caius 
Caesar,  loved  honourably,  purely,  and  worthily;  and  for  the  sake 
of  that  love  would  and  did  defy  death  itself." 

The  proconsul's  pale  face  flushed  with  something  very  akin 
to  passion ;  his  bright  eyes  were  more  lustrous  than  ever. 


I 


THE  GREAT  PROCONSUL 


213 


^I  was  eighteen  years  old  when  I  married  Cornelia,  the 
daughter  of  Cinna,  the  great  leader  of  the  *  Popup  res.'  Sulla, 
then  dictator,  ordered  me  to  put  her  away.  Cornelia  had  not 
been  the  wife  of  my  father's  choice.  He  had  wished  to  force 
upon  me  Cossutia,  an  heiress,  but  with  little  save  riches  to 
commend  her.  I  gained  neither  riches,  political  influence,  nor 
family  good-will  by  the  marriage.  Sulla  was  in  the  fulness  of 
his  strength.  I  had  seen  nearly  all  my  friends  proscribed, 
exiled,  or  murdered.  Sulla  bade  me  put  away  my  wife,  and 
take  such  a  one  as  he  should  appoint.  He  was  graciously 
pleased  to  spare  my  life,  in  order  that  I  might  become  his  tool. 
Why  did  I  refuse?" 

Caesar  was  sitting  upon  the  couch  and  speaking  nervously, 
in  a  manner  that  betokened  great  and  unusual  excitement. 

"  I  knew  the  dictator  meant  to  favour  me  if  I  would  only 
humour  him  in  this  matter.  A  word  from  him  and  all  ambition 
of  mine  had  probably  been  at  an  end.  I  take  no  praise  to  my- 
self for  this.  I  refus'"'  him.  I  defied  his  threats.  He  seized 
my  property,  deprived  me  of  my  priesthood,^  finally  let  loose  his 
pack  of  assassins  upon  me.  I  almost  became  their  victim.  But 
my  uncle,  Aurelius  Cotta,  and  some  good  friends  of  mine  among 
the  Vestal  Virgins  pleaded  my  cause.  I  escaped.  Sulla  said 
he  was  over-persuaded  in  sparing  me;  'In  me  were  many 
Mariuses.'  But  did  I  regret  the  loss,  the  danger,  the  check  for 
the  time  being  to  my  career?  Quintus  Drusus,  I  counted 
them  as  of  little  importance,  not  to  be  weighed  beside  the  pure 
love  that  mastered  me.  And  as  the  faithful  husband  of  my 
Cornelia  I  remained,  until  cruel  death  closed  her  dear  eyes  for- 
ever. One  can  love  once,  and  honourably,  with  his  whole  being, 
but  not  truly  and  honourably  love  a  second  ^  'iiejat  least  not  in 
a  manner  l^ke  unto  the  first.  Therefore,  my  Quintus,  blush 
»  Mftrius  had  made  young  Csesar,  Flamen  Dialis  :  priest  of  Jupiter. 


214 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


not  to  confess  that  which  I  know  is  yours,  —  a  thing  v  hich  too 

many  of  us  Romans  do  not  know  in  these  declining  days, 

something  that  would  almost  convince  me  there  were  in- 
deed celestial  gods,  who  care  for  us  and  guide  our  darkened 
destinies.  For  when  we  reason  of  the  gods,  our  reason  tells 
us  they  are  not.  But  when  pure  passion  possesses  our  hearts, 
then  we  see  tangible  visions,  then  our  dreams  become  no  dreams 
but  realities ;  we  mount  up  on  wings,  we  fly,  we  soar  to  Olym- 
pus, to  Atlantis,  to  the  Elysian  fields ;  we  no  longer  wish  to 
know,  we  feel ;  we  no  longer  wish  to  prove,  we  see ;  and  what 
our  reason  bids  us  to  reject,  a  surer  monitor  bids  us  to  receive : 
the  dangers  and  perils  of  this  life  of  shades  upon  the  earth  are 
of  no  account,  for  we  are  transformed  into  immortals  in  whose 
veins  courses  the  divine  ichor,  and  whose  food  is  ambrosial. 
Therefore  while  we  love  we  do  indeed  dwell  in  the  Islands  of 
the  Blessed :  and  when  the  vision  fades  away,  its  sweet  memory 
remains  to  cheer  us  in  our  life  below,  and  teach  us  that  where 
the  cold  intellect  may  not  go,  there  is  indeed  some  way,  on 
through  the  mists  of  the  future,  which  leads  we  know  not 
whither ;  but  which  leads  to  things  purer  and  fairer  than  those 
which  in  our  most  ambitious  moments  we  crave." 

The  voice  of  the  conqueror  of  Gaul  and  German  sank  with 
a  half  tremor;  his  eye  was  moist,  his  lips  continued  moving 
after  his  words  had  ceased  to  flow.  Drusua  felt  Rimself 
searched  through  and  through  by  glance  and  speech.  Was  the 
proconsul  a  diviner  to  find  all  that  was  deepest  in  his  soul  and 
give  it  «n  utterance  which  Drusus  had  never  expressed  even  to 
himself?  The  young  man  was  thrilled,  fascinated.  And 
Caesar,  in  quite  another  tone,  recovered  himself  and  spoke. 

"Wherefore,  O  Drusus!  be  ashamed  to  tell  how  the  Lady 
Cornelia  loves  you  and  you  love  her  ?  What  if  the  grim  old 
consul-elect,  like  the  jealous  elder  in  the  comedy,  will  stand  in 


THE  GREAT  PROCO:  "UL 


216 


your  way !  PImi  !  Wk-.t  are  the  complaints,  threats,  and 
prohibitions  of  such  as  he  ?  At  present,  the  wind  blows  from 
his  quarter,  but  it  will  not  be  ever  so.  Either  Lentulus  will 
be  in  no  place  to  hinder  you  before  long,  or  we  all  shall  be  be- 
yond caring  for  his  triumph  or  failure." 

"  Your  excellency  bids  me  hope !  "  cried  Drusus. 
"  I  bid  you  love,"  replied  f 'sesar,  smiling.     « I  bid  you  go  to 
Baiae,  for  there  I  have  heard  your  dear  lady  waits  her  long- 
absent  Odysseus,  and  tell  her  that  all  will  be  well  in  time ;  for 
Caesar  will  make  it  so." 

"  For  Caesar  will  make  it  so,"  repeated  the  young  man,  half- 
unconscious  that  he  was  speaking  aloud. 

« For  Caesar  will  make  it  so,"  reiterated  the  proconsul,  as 
though  Zeus  on  Olympus  were  nodding  his  head  in  awful  and 
irrevocable  promise. 

And  the  proconsul  took  both  of  his  guest's  hands  in  his 
own,  and  said,  with  seriousness :  — 

"Quintus  Drusus,  why  did  you  abandon  your  bride  to  sup- 
port my  cause  ?  " 

"  Because,"  replied  the  other,  with  perfect  frankness,  "  I 
should  not  be  worthy  to  look  Cornelia  in  the  face,  if  I  did  not 
sacrifice  all  to  aid  the  one  Roman  who  can  save  the  state." 

"Young  man,"  replied  the  proconsul,  "many  follow  me  for 
selfish  gain,  many  follow  me  to  pay  off  a  grudge,  but  few  fol- 
low me  because  they  believe  that  because  C«sar  is  ambitious, 
he  is  ambitious  as  a  god  should  be  ambitious  —  to  bestow  the 
greatest  benefits  possible  upon  the  men  entrusted  to  his  charge. 
I  know  not  what  thread  for  me  the  Fates  have  spun;  but  this 
I  know,  that  Caesar  will  never  prove  false  to  those  who 
trust  him  to  bring  righteousness  to  Rome,  and  peace  to  the 
world." 


ft 


216 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


1         night,  as  Drusus  was  retiring,  Curio  spoke  to  him :  — 
*'     ud  what  manner  of  man  do  you  think  is  the  proconsu  ?" 
"I  think,"  replied  Drusus,  "that  I  have  discovered  the  one 
man  in  the  world  whom  I  craved  to  find." 
"  And  who  is  that  ?  " 
"  The  man  with  an  ideal." 


CHAPTER  XII 

PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTTJNB 


PROBABLr  of  the  various  personages  mentioned  in  th«i 
course  of  our  story  none  was  more  thoroughly  enjoying  life 
about  this  time  than  Agias.  Drusus  had  left  him  in  the  city 
when  he  started  for  Ravenna,  with  general  instructions  to 
keep  an  eye  on  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  and  Pratinas,  and  also  to 
gather  all  he  could  of  the  political  drift  among  the  lower 
classes.  Agias  was  free  now.  He  let  his  hair  grow  long  in 
token  of  his  newly  gained  liberty;  paraded  a  many-folded 
toga;  and  used  part  of  the  donatives  which  Drusus  and  Fabia 
had  lavisVod  upon  him,  in  buying  one  or  two  slave-boys  of  his 
own,  whom,  so  far  from  treating  gently  on  account  of  his  own 
lately  servUe  position,  he  cuffed  and  abused  with  grim  satis- 
faction at  being  able  to  do  what  had  so  often  been  done  to  him. 

Agi85  had  been  given  lodging  by  Drusus  in  a  tenement 
house,  owned  by  the  latter,  in  t  e  Subura. 

The  rooms  were  over  a  bakery,  and  at  the  sides  were  a  doc- 
to-'s  and  surgeon's  office  and  a  barber's  shop  — a  rendezvous 
which  gave  the  young  Greek  an  ad  nirable  chance  to  pick  up 
the  current  gossip.  Every  street-pedler,  every  forum-idler, 
had  his  political  convictions  and  pet  theories.  The  partisans 
who  arrogated  to  themselves  the  modest  epithet  of  "The  Com- 
pany of  All  Good  Men,"  clamoured  noisily  that  "Liberty  and 

217 


218 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


Ancient  Freedom  "  were  in  danger,  if  Caesar  set  foot  in  Rome 
save  as  an  impeached  traitor.  And  the  Populares  — the  sup- 
porters of  the  proconsul  —  raged  equally  fiercely  against  the 
greed  of  the  Senate  party  that  wished  to  perpetuate  itself  for- 
ever in  office.  Agias  could  only  see  that  neither  faction  really 
understood  the  causes  for  and  against  which  they  fought ;  and 
observed  in  silence,  trusting  that  his  patron  knew  more  of  the 
issues  than  he. 

But  the  newly  manumitted  freedman  was  thoroughly  enjoy, 
ing  himself.    The  windy  speeches  in  the  Senate,  the  crowded 
and  excited  meetings  in  the  Forum,  the  action  and  reaction  of 
the  tides  of  popular  prejudice  and  fancy,  the  eloquence  of  An- 
tonius,  and  the  threatenings  and  ravings  of  Marcellus  the  con- 
sul—  all   these  were  interesting  but  not  disturbing.     Agias 
was  citi  hing  glimpses  of  a  little  Olympus  of  his  own  — an 
Oljiiipi:^  in  which  he  was  at  once  Zeus,  Poseidon,  and  Apollo; 
Sesostris  —  so  he  declared  —  the  lame  cup-bearer  Hephsestus; 
and  in  place  of  Hera,  Athena,  and  Aphrodite,  were  the  smiles 
and  laughter  of  Artemisia.    Agias  was  head  over  ears  in  love 
with  this  pretty  little  cage-bird  shut  up  in  Pratinas's  gloomy 
suite  of  rooms.    Her  "  uncle  "  took  her  out  now  and  then  to 
the  theatre  or  to  the  circus ;  but  she  had  had  little  enough 
companionship  save  such  as  Sesostris  could  give ;  and  to  her, 
Agias  was  a  wonderful  hero,  the  master  of  every  art,  the  victor 
over  a  hundred  monsters.    He  had  told  her  of  his  adventure 
with  Phaon — not    calling    names,  lest    disagreeable    conse- 
quences ensue  —  and  Artemisia  dreamed  of  hin.  as  the  clever- 
est creature  on  the  earth,  able  to  outwit  Hermes  in  subtlety. 
Agias  had  found  out  when  Pratinas  was  likely  to  be  away  from 
home  —  and  that  worthy  Hellene,  be  it  said,  never  declined  an 
invitation  to  dine  with  a  friend  —  and  Agias  timed  his  visits 
accordingly.    He  taught  Artemisia  to  play  the  cithera  and  to 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


219 


sing,  and  she  made  such  rapid  progress  under  his  tutoring  that 
*he  unconscior'<  Pratinas  commended  her  efforts  to  acquire  the 
accomplishments  he  wished.  And  Agias  was  never  so  happy 
as  when  those  bright  eyes  were  hanging  on  his  lips  or  that 
merry  tongue  was  chattering  a  thousand  pointless  remarks  or 
jests. 

Yes,  Agias  found  himself  in  a  condition  when  he  could  well 
ask  to  have  no  change.  The  possibility  that  Pratinas  would 
come  home,  and  put  an  end  to  the  romance  once  and  for  all,  was 
just  great  enough  to  give  the  affair  the  zest  of  a  dangerous  ad- 
venture. Despite  Sesostris's  warnings  that  Artemisia  might  at 
any  time  be  sold  away  b'  her  pseudo-uncle,  Agias  could  not  dis- 
cover that  that  danger  was  imminent  enough  to  need  frustration. 
He  was  content  to  live  himself  and  to  let  Artemisia  live,  bask- 
ing in  the  stolen  sunshine  of  the  hour,  and  to  let  the  thought 
of  the  approaching  shadows  fade  out  of  his  mind. 

Another  person  who  saw  the  sunshine  rather  biighter  than 
before  was  Pisander.  That  excellent  philosopher  had  received 
his  share  of  the  gratitude  Drusus  had  bestowed  on  his  deliver- 
ers. But  he  was  still  in  the  service  of  Valeria,  for  Drusus  saw 
that  he  had  admirable  opportunities  for  catching  the  stray  bits 
of  political  gossip  that  inevitably  intermixed  themselves  with 
the  conversation  of  Valeria  and  her  circle.  Pisander  had  con- 
tinued to  read  Plato  to  his  mistress,  and  to  groan  silently  at 
her  frivolity ;  albeit,  he  did  not  groan  so  hopelessly  as  before, 
because  he  had  good  money  in  his  pouch  and  knew  where  to 
procure  more  when  he  needed  it. 

So  Agias  ecjcyed  himself.  He  was  a  youth ;  a  Pagan  youth ; 
and  in  his  short  life  he  had  seen  many  a  scene  of  wickedness 
and  shame,  "^'et  there  was  nothing  unholy  in  the  affection 
which  he  found  was  daily  growing  stronger  and  stronger  for 
Artemisia.     She  was  a  pure,  innocent  flower,  that  by  the  very 


220 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


whiteness  of  her  simple  sweet  presence  drove  away  anything 
that  «  defiled  or  made  a  lie."  Agias  did  not  worship  her ;  she 
was  too  winning;  too  cunning  and  pretty  to  attract  the  least 
reverence ;  but  in  her  company  the  young  Greek  was  insensibly 
raised  pinnacles  above  the  murky  moral  atmosphere  in  which 
most  men  and  youths  of  his  station  walked. 

It  was  all  like  an  Idyl  of  Theocritus ;  with  tl  a  tenement  of 
Pratinas  for  a  shepherd's  hut;  and  Sesostris  fo  a  black-backed 
sheep  to  whom  the  herdsmen  and  the  nymph  of  his  love  could 
play  on  "oaten  reed."  At  first,  Agias  had  never  dreamed  of 
telling  a  word  of  his  affection  to  Artemisia.  In  truth,  it  was 
very  hard  to  tell,  for  she,  with  an  absolute  innocence,  took  all 
his  advances  for  far  more  than  they  were  worth ;  told  him  that 
next  to  her  "uncle  and  dear  Sesostris"  he  was  quite  the  best 
friend  she  had ;  that  she  loved  him,  and  was  glad  to  hear  him 
say  that  he  loved  her. 

All  this  was  delightful  in  the  ears  of  her  admirer,  but  very 
disconcerting.  Agias  thought  of  the  hollow  civilities  of  Valeria's 
life,  as  he  had  seen  it;  of  the  outward  decorum  of  language,  of 
the  delicately  veiled  compliments,  of  the  interchange  of  words 
that  summed  up,  in  a  few  polished  commonplaces,  a  whole  net- 
work of  low  intrigue  and  passion.  Was  this  the  same  world! 
Could  Valeria  and  Artemisia  both  be  women !  The  one  —  a 
beauty,  whose  guilty  heart  was  not  ignorant  of  a  single  form 
of  fashionable  sin ;  the  other  —  as  it  were,  a  blossom,  that  was 
pure  sweetness,  in  whose  opening  petals  the  clear  diamond 
of  the  morning  dew  still  remained!  Agias  did  not  compare 
Artemisia  with  Cornelia;  for  Cornelia,  in  his  eyes,  was  a  god- 
dess, and  in  beauty  and  passions  was  above  the  hope  or  regard 
of  mortal  men. 

But  what  was  one  to  do  in  an  emergency  like  the  following  ? 
Agias  had  been  singing  the  "Love  Song"  from  the  "Cyclops," 


PEATINAS  MEKTS   ILL-FORTUNE 


221 


and  trying  to  throw  into  the  lines  all  the  depth  of  tendei 
affection  which  voice  and  look  rendered  possible. 

"One  with  eyes  the  fairest 

Cometh  from  his  dwelling, 
Some  one  loves  thee,  raretst, 

Bright  beyond  my  telling. 
In  thy  grace  thou  shinest 
Like  some  nymph  divinest, 
In  her  caverns  dewy  ;  — 
All  delights  pursue  thee, 
Soon  pied  flowers,  sweet-breathing. 
Shall  thy  head  be  wreathing."  » 

And  at  the  conclusion  of  the  song  Artemisia  threw  her  arms 
around  Agias's  neck  and  kissed  him ;  and  then  with  astounding 
impartiality  sprang  into  Sesostris's  lap,  and  patted  the  old 
Ethiop's  black  cheeks,  and  bestowed  on  him  all  manner  of  en- 
dearing epithets.  What  was  poor  Agias  to  do  in  such  a  case  ? 
He  blankly  concludfd  that  it  had  proved  easier  to  blast  the 
plot  of  Pratinas  and  Ahenobarbus,  than  to  win  the  love  —  as 
he  meant  "love"  —  of  this  provokingly  affectionate  girl.  It 
was  growing  late.  Pratinas  might  at  any  time  return.  And 
Agias  constrained  himself  to  depart. 

"  By  Zeus ! "  was  the  exclamation  he  addressed  to  himself 
as  he  fought  his  way  through  the  crowds  toward  his  own 
quarters ;  "  where  will  this  all  end  ?  How  much  longer  are 
you  going  to  lie  in  the  toils  of  that  most  innocent  of  Circes  ? 
Will  she  never  open  her  eyes?  If  I  could  only  make  her 
cry,  '  I  hate  you ! '  there  would  be  some  hope ;  for  when  one 
hates,  as  I  want  her  to,  love  is  but  a  step  away.  Confound 
that  Sesostris !  For  me  to  have  to  sit  there,  and  see  that 
baboon  kissed  and  fondled  ! " 

And  so  reflecting,  he  reached  his  rooms.    One  of  the  luck- 

*  Translated  by  Shelley. 


222 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


less  slave-boys  who  now  addressed  him  as  "Dominus,"  was 
waiting  to  tell  him  that  a  very  gaunt,  strange-looking  man, 
with  an  enormous  beard,  had  called  to  see  him  while  he  was 
out,  and  would  return -so  the  visitor  said -in  the  evening, 
for  his  business  was  important.  " Pisander,"  remarked  AgiasJ 
and  he  stayed  in  that  evening  to  meet  the  philosopher,  although 
he  had  arranged  to  share  a  dinner  with  one  or  two  other  freed- 
men,  who  were  his  friends. 

The  man  of  learning  appeared  at  a  very  late  hour.  In  fact, 
the  water-clock  showed  that  it  wanted  little  of  midnight  before 
he  came.  His  -explanation  was  that  Valeria  had  called  him 
in  to  read  verses  to  a  company  of  friends  who  were  supping 
with  her,  and  he  could  not  get  away  sooner.  Besides, 
the  dark  streets  were  full  of  bandits,  and  he  had  therefore 
taken  a  circuitous  route  to  avoid  attack.  Agias  had  to  let 
him  ramble  through  all  the  details,  although  he  knew  very 
well  thac  Pisander  would  never  have  taken  so  much  trouble 
to  come  if  he  had  not  had  information  of  the  first  importance 
to  impart. 

"And  now,  my  dear  Pisander,"  ventured  the  young  Greek, 
at  length,  "  I  will  ask  Dromo  to  set  something  to  drink  before 
ws ;  and  I  hope  you  will  tell  me  why  you  have  come." 

Pisander  glanced  timidly  over  his  shoulder,  pulled  at  his 
beard  with  suppressed  excitement,  then  bent  down,  and  in  a 
very  low  voice  burst  out :  — 

"  Pratinas  and  "  —  he  hesitated  —  «  Valeria ! » 

"Ai!"  cried  Agias,  "I  have  suspected  it  for  a  very  long 
time.     You  are  sure  the  fox  has  snapped  up  his  goose  ? " 

"By  Hercules,  very  sure!  They  are  planning  to  go  to 
Egypt.  Pratinas  has  just  had  a  wonderful  stroke  of  luck. 
He  received  six  hundred  thousand  sesterces » with  which  to 

1 924.000. 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


223 


corrupt  a  jury  for  some  poor  wretch  who  expected  to  enlist 
Pratinas's  cunning  to  get  him  out  of  the  toils  of  the  law. 
Pratinas  calmly  put  the  money  in  his  strong-box,  and  let  the 
unhappy  wight  be  cast.  He  is  not  at  all  poor— he  has 
amassed  a  large  fortune  while  he  has  been  in  Rome.  Shade 
of  Plato!  how  this  knave  has  prospered!  And  now  he  is 
arranging  with  Valeria  to  strip  poor  Calatinus  of  nearly  all 
his  valuables,  before  they  fly  the  country." 

"Ah,  luckless  Calatinus!"  laughed  Agias.  "That  will  be 
the  end  of  his  marrying  the  handsomest  woman  in  Rome. 
And  so  this  is  what  yovi  came  here  to  tell  me  ?  It  really  was 
a  good  secret  to  keep." 

"St!"  in<^errupted  Pisander,  "  Pratinas  has  something  else 
to  attend  to.  Calatinus  will  get  consolation  for  losing  his 
dear  spouse.  I  suppose  Pratinas  wishes  to  indemnify  him, 
but  he  himself  will  make  a  good  bit  at  the  same  time." 

In  a  twinkling  a  thought  had  flashed  through  Agias's  mind, 
that  made  a  cold  sweat  break  out  all  over  him,  and  a  hot  surge 
of  blood  mount  to  his  head. 

"  Man,  man  ! "  he  cried,  grasping  Pisander's  wrists  with  all 
his  strength,  "  speak  !  Don't  look  at  me  this  way !  Don't 
say  that  you  mean  Artemisia  ?  " 

"Ail  You  know  the  girl,  then  ? "  said  the  other,  with  the 
most  excruciating  inquisitiveness. 

"Know  her?"  raged  Agias,  "I  love  the  sunbeam  on  which 
her  eyes  rest.  Speak!  Tell  me  all,  everything,  all  about  it! 
Quick  1    I  must  know ! " 

Pisander  drew  himself  together,  and  with  a  deliberation 
that  was  nearly  maddening  to  his  auditor,  began :  — 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  had  occasion  this  morning  to  be  in  Gala- 
tinus's  library.  Yes,  I  remember,  I  was  just  putting  the  new 
copy  of  Theognis  back  into  the  cupboard,  when  I  noticed 


't 


224 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


r 
.  i 


that  the  Mimnermus  was  not  neatly  rolled,  and  so  I  happened 
to  stay  in  the  room,  and  —  " 

"  By  Zeus,  speak  faster  and  to  the  point ! »  cried  Agias. 
"Oh,  there  wasn't  very  much  to  it  all !  Why,  how  excited 
you  are!  Pratinas  came  into  the  atrium,  and  Calatinus  was 
already  there.  I  heard  the  latter  say,  *  So  I  am  to  give  you 
forty  thousand  sesterces  for  the  little  giri  you  had  with  you 
at  the  circus  yesterday  ?»  And  Pratinas  replied,  '  Yes,  if  she 
pleases  you.  I  told  you  her  name  was  Artemisia,  and  that 
I  always  taught  her  to  believe  that  she  was  my  niece.' " 

"Hei!  Hei!"  groaned  Agias,  rushing  up  and  down  the 
room,  half  frantic.  «  Don't  tell  any  more,  I've  heard  enough ! 
Fool,  fool  I  have  been,  to  sit  in  the  sunshine,  and  never  think 
of  preparing  to  carry  out  my  promise  to  Sesostris.  No,  you 
must  tell  me— you  must  tell  me  if  you  have  learned  any 
more.  Did  Calatinus  fix  on  any  time  at  which  he  was  to  take 
possession  of  the  poor  girl  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  the  still  amazed  Pisander.  "I  did  not  hear 
the  whole  conversation.  There  was  something  about  *  a  very 
few  days,'  and  then  Pratinas  began  to  condole  with  Calatinus 
over  being  beaten  for  the  tribunate  after  having  spent  so  much 
money  for  the  canvass.  But  why  are  you  so  stirred  up  ?  As 
Plato  very  admirably  observes  in  his  '  Philebus '  —  " 

"  The  Furies  seize  upon  your  *  Philebus ' ! "  thundered  Agias. 
"  Keep  quiet,  if  you've  nothing  good  to  teU !  Oh,  Agias,  Agias ! 
where  are  your  wits,  where  is  your  cunning?  What  in  the 
world  can  I  do  ?  " 

And  so  he  poured  out  his  distress  and  anger.  But,  after  all, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done  that  night.  Pisander,  who  at 
last  began  to  realize  the  dilemma  of  his  friend,  ventured  on  a 
sort  of  sympathy  which  was  worse  than  no  sympathy  at  all, 
for  philosophical  platitudes  are  ever  the  worst  of  consolations. 


PEATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


225 


Agias  invited  the  good  man  to  spend  the  night  with  aim,  and 
not  risk  a  second  time  the  robbers  of  the  streets.  The  young 
Greek  himself  finally  went  to  bed,  with  no  definite  purpose  in 
his  mind  except  to  rescue  Artemisia,  at  any  and  every  hazard, 
from  falling  into  the  clutches  of  Calatinus,  who  was  perhaps 
the  one  man  in  the  world  Agias  detested  the  most  heartily. 

II 

Early  in  the  morning  Agias  was  awake.  He  had  slept  very 
little.  The  face  of  Artemisia  was  ever  before  him,  and  he 
saw  it  bathed  in  tears,  and  clouded  with  anguish  and  terror. 
But,  early  as  he  arose,  it  was  none  too  early.  Dromo,  one  of 
his  slaves,  came  to  announce  to  ms  dread  lord  that  an  aged 
Ethiop  was  waiting  to  see  him,  and  Agias  did  not  need  to  be 
told  that  this  was  Sesostris. 

That  faithful  servant  of  an  unworthy  master  was  indeed  in 
a  pitiable  condition.  His  ordinarily  neat  and  clean  dress  was 
crumpled  and  disarranged,  as  though  he  had  not  changed  it 
during  the  night,  but  had  rather  been  tossing  and  wakeful. 
His  eyes  were  swollen,  and  tears  were  trickling  down  his 
cheeks.  His  voice  had  sunk  to  a  husky  choking,  and  when  he 
stood  before  .\gias  he  was  unable  to  get  out  a  word,  but,  after 
a  few  vain  attempts  which  ended  in  prolonged  sniffles,  thrust 
into  his  young  friend's  hand  a  tablet. 

It  was  in  Greek,  in  the  childish,  awkward  hand  of  Artemisia, 
and  ran  as  follows  :  — 

"Artemisia  to  her  dear,  dear  Agias.  I  never  wrote  a  letter 
before,  and  you  must  excuse  the  blunders  in  this.  I  don't 
know  how  to  begin  to  tell  you  the  dreadful  thing  that  may 
happen  to  me.  I  will  try  and  stop  crying,  and  write  it  out 
just  as  it  all  happened.  The  day  before  yesterday  Pratinas 
took  me  to  the  circua,  where  I  enjoyed  the  racing  very  much. 


226 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


I 


While  we  were  sitting  there,  a  very  fine  gentleman  —  at  least 
he  had  purple  stripes  on  his  tunic  and  ever  so  many  rings  — 
came  and  sat  down  beside  us.  Pratinas  told  me  that  this  gen- 
tleman was  Lucius  Calatinus,  who  was  a  great  lord,  but  a  friend 
of  his.  I  tried  to  say  something  polite  to  Calatinus,  but  I 
didn't  like  him.  He  seemed  coarse,  and  looked  as  though 
he  might  be  cruel  at  times.  He  talked  to  me  something  the 
way  you  have  talked  —  said  I  was  pretty  and  my  voice  sovmded 
very  sweet.  But  I  didn't  enjoy  these  things  from  him,  I  ca:* 
hardly  tell  why — though  I'm  delighted  to  hear  you  say  them. 
Well,  after  quite  a  while  he  went  away,  and  I  didn't  think 
anything  more  about  him  for  a  time,  and  yesterday  you  know 
how  happy  I  was  when  you  visited  me.  Only  a  little  while 
after  you  left,  Pratinas  came  back.  I  could  see  that  he  had 
something  on  his  mind,  although  he  said  nothing.  He  seemed 
uneasy,  and  kept  casting  sidelong  glances  at  me,  which  made 
me  feel  uncomfortable.  I  went  up  to  him,  and  put  my  arms 
around  his  neck.  <Dear  uncle,'  I  said,  'what  is  troubling 
you  to-night  ? '  '  Nothing,'  he  answered,  and  he  half  tried  to 
take  my  arms  away.  Then  he  said,  *  I  was  thinking  how  soon 
I  was  to  go  back  to  Alexandria.'  '  To  Alexandria ! '  I  cried, 
and  I  was  just  going  to  clap  my  hands  when  I  thought  that, 
although  Alexandria  was  a  far  nicer  place  than  Rome,  you 
could  not  go  with  us,  and  so  I  felt  very  sorry.  Then  Pratinas 
spoke  again  in  a  hard,  cold  voice  he  has  never  used  to  me 
before.  '  Artemisia,  I  must  tell  you  now  the  truth  about  your- 
self. I  have  let  you  call  me  uncle,  and  have  tried  to  be  kind 
to  you.  But  you  cannot  come  back  to  Alexandria  with  me. 
The  day  after  to-morrow  Calatinus,  the  gentleman  you  met  at 
the  circus  yesterday,  will  come  and  take  you  away.  He  is  a 
very  rich  man,  and  if  you  please  him  will  give  you  everything 
you  desire.'    I  couldn't  understand  at  all  what  he  meant,  and 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


227 


cried  out,  *  But,  uncle,  I  don't  like  Calatinus,  and  you  —  you 
don't  really  mean  to  leave  me  behind  ? '  '  You  little  donkey,' 
said  Pratinas,  laughing,  oh !  so  heartlessly,  '  I'm  not  your 
uncle.  You've  been  my  slave,  and  I've  sold  you  to  Calatinus ; 
so  don't  quarrel  with  him,  but  learn  to  like  him  quickly.'  I 
don't  remember  what  he  said  or  I  said  next.  I  was  so  fright- 
ened and  grieved  that  I  don't  know  what  I  did.  I  know  Pra- 
tinas finally  whipped  me,  something  he  never  did  before.  I 
went  to  bed  feeling  so  sore,  that  I  could  not  get  really  to  sleep, 
but  dreadful  visions  of  Calatinus  kept  frightening  me.  I  don't 
know  which  grieves  me  most,  to  know  I  am  a  slave,  to  know 
that  Pratinas  is  not  my  uncle  and  does  not  love  me,  or  to  be 
about  to  be  sold  to  Calatinus.  Dear  Sesostris  has  done  all  he 
can  to  console  me,  but  that's  very  little ;  and  so,  very  early  this 
morning,  I've  written  to  you,  Agias,  just  as  soon  as  Pratinas 
left  the  house,  for  I  am  sure  that  you,  who  are  so  clever  and 
wise,  can  see  some  way  to  get  me  out  of  my  dreadful  trouble." 

It  woidd  be  hardly  necessary  to  say  that,  after  reading  this 
appeal,  Agias  hurried  away  to  do  all  that  lay  in  his  power  to 
console  Artemisia,  and  deliver  her  from  her  danger.  When 
he  reached  Pratinas's  tenement,  Artemisia  ran  to  meet  him, 
and  kissed  him  again  and  again,  and  cuddled  down  in  his 
strong,  young  arms,  quite  content  to  believe  that  she  had 
found  a  protector  on  whom  she  could  cast  all  her  burdens. 
And  Agias  ?  He  laughed  and  bade  her  wipe  away  her  tears, 
and  swore  a  great  oath  that,  so  long  as  he  breathed,  Calatinus 
should  not  lay  a  finger  upon  her. 

Artemisia  had  practically  told  all  her  story  in  her  letter.  It 
was  clear  that  Calatinus  had  caught  sight  of  her  several  times, 
—  though  she  had  remained  in  blissful  ignorance,  —  and  Prati- 
nas had  deliberately  planned  to  waylay  him  as  a  customer 
who  would  pay  a  good  price  for  the  girl,  whom  it  would  be 


u 


I 

i 

y 


I 


I 


228 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


manifestly  inconvenient  for  him  to  take  with  Valeria  on  his 
premeditated  flight  to  Egypt  But  this  enlightenment  did  not 
make  Agias's  task  any  the  easier.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that 
he  could  never  raise  a  tithe  of  the  forty  thousand  sesterces  that 
Pratinas  was  to  receive  from  Calatinus,  and  so  redeem  Arte- 
misia. He  had  no  right  to  expect  the  gift  of  such  a  sum  from 
Drusus.  If  Pratinas  really  owned  the  poor  girl  as  a  slave,  he 
could  do  anything  he  listed  with  her,  and  no  law  could  be  in- 
voked to  say  him  nay.  There  was  only  one  recourse  left  to 
Agias,  and  that  was  fairly  desperate  —  to  carry  off  Artemisia 
and  keep  her  in  hiding  until  Pratinas  should  give  up  the  quest 
and  depart  for  Egypt.  That  there  was  peril  in  such  a  step  he 
was  well  aware.  Not  merely  could  Artemisia,  if  recaptured, 
receive  any  form  whatsoever  of  brutal  punishment,  but  he,  as 
the  abettor  of  her  flight,  would  be  liable  to  a  heavy  penalty. 
Slave  property  was  necessarily  very  precarious  property,  and 
to  aid  a  slave  to  escape  was  an  extremely  heinous  crime.  "  So 
many  slaves,  so  many  enemies,"  ran  the  harsh  maxim  ;  and  it 
was  almost  treason  to  society  for  a  freedman  to  aid  a  servant 
to  run  away. 

But  Agias  had  no  time  to  count  the  cost,  no  time  to  evolve 
a  plan  of  escape  that  admitted  no  form  of  disaster.  Artemisia 
besought  him  not  to  leave  her  for  a  moment,  and  accordingly 
he  remained  by  her,  laughing,  poking  fun,  and  making  reckless 
gibes  at  her  fears.  Sesostris  went  about  his  simple  household 
duties  with  a  long  face,  and  now  and  then  a  tear  trickled  down 
his  cheek.  Whatever  came  of  the  matter,  Artemisia  would 
have  to  be  separated  from  him.  He  might  never  see  her 
again,  and  the  old  Ethopian  loved  her  more  than  he  did  life 
itself. 

"  You  will  not  wrong  the  girl  when  she  is  with  you  ?  "  he 
whispered  dolefully  to  Agias. 


PRATtNAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


22« 


"I  swear  by  Zeus  she  shall  be  treated  as  if  she  were  my 
own  dear  sister,"  was  his  reply. 

"  It  is  well.  I  can  trust  you ;  but  mul  mu!  it  is  hard,  it  is 
hard  I  I  love  her  like  my  own  eyes !  Isis  preserve  her  dear 
life!" 

And  so  at  last  Artemisia,  having  cried  out  all  her  first  burst 
of  grief,  was  beginning  to  smile  once  more. 

"  And  now,  oh !  makaira,"  ^  said  Agias,  "  I  must  go  away  for 
just  a  little  while.  I  have  ever  so  many  things  to  attend  to ; 
and  you  must  be  a  good,  brave  girl,  and  wait  until  I  com"«  back." 

"St!"  broke  in  Sesostris,  "there's  a  step  on  the  stairs. 
Pratinas  is  coming !  " 

"Hide  me!"  cried  Agias,  as  the  approaching  feet  grew 
nearer.  There  was  no  time  to  take  refuge  in  one  of  the  farther 
rooms. 

"  Here ;  '  and  Sesostris  threw  open  the  same  iron  clamped 
chest  in  which  some  time  ago  we  saw  Pratinas  inspecting  his 
treasure.    "  The  money  was  taken  out  yesterday." 

Agias  bounded  into  the  box,  and  Sesostris  pushed  down  the 
cover.  The  luckless  occupant  had  only  a  chance  to  push  out  a 
corner  of  his  tunic  through  the  slit  to  admit  a  little  air,  when 
Pratinas  entered  the  room.  Agias  longed  to  spring  forth  and 
throttle  him,  but  such  an  act  would  have  been  folly. 

The  young  Greek's  prison  was  sufficiently  cramped  and 
stuffy ;  but  for  a  moment  Agias  tried  to  persuade  himself  that 
he  had  only  to  wait  with  patience  until  Pratinas  should  be  gone, 
and  no  one  would  be  the  worse.  An  exclamation  from  the 
room  without  dispelled  this  comforting  illusion. 

"  By  Zeus ! "  cried  Pratinas,  «  what  is  this  ?  Whence  came 
this  new  toga  ? 

Agias  writhed  in  his  confinement.    In  the  plentitude  of  the 

1  BletMd  dear. 


230 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


glory  of  his  newly  acquired  freedom,  he  had  come  abroad  in  ai> 
elegant  new  toga ;  but  he  had  laid  it  on  a  chair  when  he  entered 
the  room. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause  outside ;  then  Pratinas  burst 
out,  "  You  worthless  Ethiopian,  you,  where  did  this  toga  come 
from  ?  It  hasn't  wings  or  feet !  How  came  it  here  ?  Who's 
been  here?  Speak,  speak,  you  fool,  or  I  will  teach  you  a 
lesson ! " 

Agias  gathered  himself  for  a  spring;  for  he  expected  to 
hear  Sesostris  whimper  out  a  confession,  and  see  Fratinas's 
wickedly  handsome  face  peering  into  the  chest.  "  He  shan't 
cut  my  throat  without  a  struggle  !  "  was  his  vow. 

But,  to  his  surprise,  Sesostris  answered  with  a  tone  of  un- 
looked-for firmness,  "  Master,  I  cannot  tell  you  where  the  toga 
came  from." 

The  tone  of  Pratinas,  in  reply,  ir  ^  icated  his  passion.  "  Sheep ! 
Dog !  Have  I  had  you  all  these  yet.  that  you  should  need  a 
thrashing  for  impertinence !  What  rascal  has  been  here  to  ogle 
at  this  wretched  girl  ?  "  He  might  have  thundered  his  com- 
mands to  Artemisia,  who  was  sobbing  in  evident  distress ;  but 
his  anger  was  concentrated  on  Sesostris.  "  WUl  you  not  speak  ?  " 

"  Master,"  came  the  same  firm  reply,  "  I  will  not  tell  you, 
though  you  take  my  life  for  refusing." 

What  followed  was,  as  Agias  heard  it,  a  volley  of  curses, 
blows,  groans,  and  scuffling ;  then  a  heavy  fall ;  an  extremely 
fierce  execration  from  Pratinas,  and  a  loud  shrill  scream  from 
Artemisia,  "0  Sesostris;  dear  Sesostris!  He  doesn't  speak! 
He  doesn't  move !    You've  killed  him ! " 

"  And  I  will  kill  you  too  if  you  won't  tell  the  truth ! "  thun- 
dered Pratinas,  in  an  ungovernable  passion.  Agias  heard  a 
blow  as  of  a  clinched  fist,  and  a  low  moan.  It  was  enough. 
One  spring,  and  the  ponderous  cover  flew  back.    The  toga,  the 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


231 


innocent  cause  of  the  catastrophe,  lay  on  the  chair  close  at 
hand.  Agias  grasped  the  whole  picture  in  a  twinkling: 
Sesostris  lying  beside  a  heavy  wooden  bench,  with  blood 
flowing  from  a  great  wound  in  his  head  which  had  struck 
in  falling  on  a  sharp  corner;  Artemisia  crying  in  unspeak- 
able dread  on  a  divan ;  Pratinas,  his  face  black  as  night,  with 
uplifted  hand  prepared  to  strike  a  second  time.  Agias  saw ; 
and  while  he  saw  acted.  Down  over  Pratinas's  head  dashed  the 
broad  linen  folds  of  the  toga,  and  two  muscular  arms  drew  it 
tight  around  the  neck.  Then  began  the  struggle.  Pratinas 
was  of  powerful  physique,  and  resisted  like  a  madman.  The 
carpet  was  torn  to  shreds,  the  chairs  shivered.  But  Agias,  too, 
battled  for  grim  life.  He  kept  the  hood  over  his  opponent's 
eyes  and  never  gave  Pratinas  a  glimpse  of  the  idee  tity  of  his 
assailant.  And  at  last  a  life  of  debauches  and  late  dinners  and 
unhealthy  excitement  began  to  tell  against  even  so  powerful  a 
constitution  as  that  of  Pratinas.  Tighter  and  tighter  grew  the 
pressure  around  his  neck.  And  now  Artemisia  sprang  up,  and 
flew  like  a  tiny  tigress  to  her  lover's  assistance,  and  caught  at 
her  tormentor's  hands,  tearing  them  with  her  white  little  teeth, 
and  pulling  the  enveloping  mantle  closer  and  closer.  The  con- 
test could  only  have  one  end.  Ere  long,  Pratinas  was  lying  on 
the  floor,  bound  hand  and  foot  with  strings  of  torn  clothing, 
and  his  head  still  muffled  in  the  toga.  Agias,  victorious,  but 
with  not  a  whole  rag  on  his  back,  rose  from  his  contest. 

"  Sesostris !  help  him ! "  cried  ^V.-'temisia,  trying  in  vain  to  get 
some  response  from  the  motionless  form  by  the  bench.  Agias 
looked  at  the  Ethiop.  The  hard  wood  had  struck  the  top  of 
his  skull,  and  death  must  have  been  instantaneous. 

"  He  does  not  feel  any  pain,"  explained  the  young  Greek, 
who  realized  that  this  was  no  moment  to  indulge  in  emotions 
of  any  sort     "  Now,  Artemisia,  you  must  hurry  and  put  on  a 


III 


1 


232 


A  FRIEND  OF  CifCSAB 


clean  dress  yourself;  and  give  me  at  least  a  new  tunic,  for  1 
cannot  show  this  on  the  streets.  Put  into  a  basket  all  the 
bread  you  have,  and  some  oil,  and  some  olives,  and  some  slices 
of  salt  fish." 

Artemisia  disappeared  in  the  next  room.  Agias  returned 
to  his  prisoner.  Pratinas  was  coughing  and  twisting,  and 
trying  to  ejaculate  oaths. 

"My  good  sir,"  said  Agias,  "I  am  not  a  bloodthirsty  man, 
otherwise  I  would  cut  your  throat,  and  so  let  you  forget  a 
predicament  which  doubtless  embarrasses  you  not  a  little. 
But,  since  that  is  not  to  be,  do  not  blame  me  if  I  arrange  so 
that  it  will  be  unlikely  that  two  such  cold  friends  as  you  and 
myself  will  ever  meet  again.  First  of  all,  that  purse  which  is 
at  your  side,  and  which,  by  its  weight,  shows  that  it  contains 
a  fair  night's  winnings,  must  go  with  me  to  speed  me  on  my 
way.  I  have  never  stolen  very  much  before.  But  I  believe 
you,  sir,  are  an  Epicurean,  who  teach  that  pleasure  is  the 
highest  good,  and  that  all  things  are  the  result  of  chance. 
Now,"  and  here  he  detached  the  purse,  p-^  A  counted  over  a 
very  considerable  sum,  "you  will  observ  nat  Fortune  has 
thrown  this  money  in  my  way,  and  it  if  ay  pleasure  to  take 
it.  Therefore  I  am  fulfilling  the  highest  good.  And  you,  as 
a  philosopher,  should  be  quite  reconciled." 

Artemisia  came  back  into  the  room,  having  completed  the 
few  simple  preparations. 

"Now,  my  excellent  sir,"  continued  Agias,  suiting  his 
actions  to  his  words,  "I  will  stand  you  on  your  feet — so.  I 
will  p  ih  you,  still  bound,  into  this  closet  —  so.  I  will  pile 
furniture  against  the  door,  so  that,  when  you  have  worked 
clear  of  your  bonds,  as  I  imagine  you  will  in  a  few  hours, 
even  then  you  will  not  get  out  too  quickly.  And  now,  as 
your  dear  Boman  friends  say,  Vaiel    We  are  o£El" 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


233 


Artemisia  flung  herself  on  the  form  of  Sesostris,  and  cov- 
ered the  black,  ugly  face  with  kisses. 

«  He's  growing  cold,"  she  lamented.  "  What  is  the  matter  ? 
I  can't  leave  him  this  way !  " 

But  Agias  did  not  dare  to  admit  the  least  delaying. 

"Dear  Artemisia,"  he  said,  "we  can't  do  anything  for 
Sesostris.  I  will  explain  to  you  by  and  by  about  him.  He 
is  not  feeling  cold  now  at  all.  You  must  come  at  once  with 
me.    I  will  take  you  where  Pratinas  will  never  touch  you." 

m 

If  Agias  had  been  a  trifle  more  reckless  he  would  have  cut 
short  Pratinas's  thread  of  life  then  and  there,  and  greatly 
diminished  the  chance  of  unpleasant  consequences.  But  he 
had  not  sunk  so  low  as  that.  Besides,  he  had  already  worked 
out  in  his  versatile  head  a  plan  that  seemed  practicable,  albeit 
utterly  audacious.  Cornelia  was  at  Baise.  Cornelia  owed  him 
a  great  debt  of  gratitude  for  saving  Drusus.  Cornelia  might 
harbour  Artemisia  as  a  new  maid,  if  he  could  contrive  to  get 
his  charge  over  the  hundred  long  miles  that  lay  between 
Borne  and  Baise. 

In  the  str'^et  he  made  Artemisia  draw  her  mantle  over  her 
pretty  face,  and  pressed  through  the  crowds  as  fast  as  he 
could  drag  her  onward.  Quickly  as  he  might  he  left  the 
noisy  Subura  behind,  and  led  on  toward  the  Palatine.  At 
length  he  turned  in  toward  a  large  house,  and  by  a  narrow 
alley  reached  a  garden  gate,  and  gained  admission  to  the  rear. 
By  his  confident  movements  he  showed  himself  familiar  with 
the  spot.  The  dwelling,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  that  of 
Calatinus. 

As  Agias  pushed  open  the  gate,  and  led  Artemisia  into  a 
UtUe  garden  enclosed  with  a  high  stone  wall,  he  surprised 


234 


A  FRIEND  OF  C.E9AR 


a  dapper-aope-i'^ing  young  slave-lad  of  about  his  age,  who 
was  lying  idlv  m  the  tiny  grass  plot,  and  indulging  in  a 
solitary  gi..  e  oi  i  lackgammon.' 

"Hen  .'  .  ;t  '*  was  Agias's  salutation,  "can  you  do  an  old 
friend  ait    i-  ? 

lasufi  f-vifci^'f  '^o  his  feet,  with  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth  wide 
open.     I\f:  ♦\;-  . :  led,    urned  white,  turned  red  once  more. 

"Phy:"  ilea  Aiu  .  h  •  ,  "you  aren't  so  silly  as  to  take 
me  for  'ia,i1p  f.^i.  Hades?  I've  as  much  strength  and 
muscle  as  \  ou." 

"  Agias !  ■  blurierl  oat  lasus,  «  are  you  alive  ?  Really  alive  ? 
They  didn't  beat  you  to  death !    I  am  so  glad !    You  know — " 

"St I"  interrupted  Agias.  "You  did,  indeed,  serve  me  an 
awkward  trick  some  time  since ;  but  who  can  blame  you  for 
wanting  to  save  your  own  skin.  Pisander  and  Arsinoe  and 
Semiramis  have  kept  the  secret  that  I'm  ali'  e  very  well,  for 
in  some  ways  it  shouldn't  come  to  Valeria's  ears.  My  story 
later.    Where's  her  most  noble  ladyship  ?  " 

"The  domina,"  replied  lasus,  with  a  sniff,  "has  just  gone 
out  on  a  visit  to  a  friend  who  has  a  country-house  near 
Fidenae,  up  the  Tiber." 

"Praise  the  gods!  Far  enough  to  be  abroad  for  the  day, 
and  perhaps  over  night !  This  suits  my  purpose  woiderfuily. 
Is  Pisander  at  home,  and  Arsinoe '/  " 

"  I  will  fetch  them,"  replied  lasus ;  and  in  a  minute  the 
philosopher  and  the  waiting-maid  were  in  the  garden. 

A  very  few  words  explained  to  these  two  sympathetic  souls 
the  whole  situation. 

Artemisia  shrank  back  at  sight  of  Pisander. 

"  I  am  afraid  of  that  man.  He  wears  a  great  beard  like 
Pratinas,  and  I  don't  love  Pratinas  any  longer." 

1  Duodecim  scripla. 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


236 


"  Oh,  don't  say  that,  my  little  swallow,"  said  the  worthy 
man  of  books,  looking  very  sheepish.  "  I  should  be  sorry  to 
think  that  your  bright  eyes  were  vexed  to  see  me." 

«  Phut  !  Pisander,"  laughed  Arsinoe,  "  what  have  Zeno  and 
Diogenes  to  do  with  *  bright  eyes '  ?  " 

But  for  once  Pisander's  heart  was  wiser  than  his  head,  and 
he  only  tossed  Artemisia  an  enormous  Persian  peaxih,  at  which, 
when  she  sampled  the  gift,  she  made  peace  at  once,  and  for- 
ever after  held  Pisander  in  her  toils  as  a  devoted  servant. 

But  Agias  was  soon  gone ;  and  Artemisia  spent  the  res  of 
the  morning  and  the  whole  of  the  afternoon  ui  that  very  satis- 
factory Elysium  of  Syi  an  pears  and  honey-ai  ^iles  which  S^mi- 
ramis  and  Arsinoe  supplied  in  full  measure,  with  Pisander  to 
Sit  by,  and  stare,  boylike,  at  her  clear,  fair  profile,  and  cast 
jsalous  glances  at  lasus  when  that  yoimg  man  veutu-ed  to 
utilize  his  opportunity  for  a  like  advantage.  Many  of  ti-  j  ser- 
vants had  gone  with  Valeria,  and  the  others  readily  agreed  to 
preserve  secrecy  in  a  matter  in  which  their  former  fellow-siave 
and  favourite  had  so  much  at  stake.  So  the  lay  passed,  anH  no 
one  came  to  disturb  her ;  and  just  as  the  shadows  were  falling 
Agias  knocked  at  the  garden  gate. 

"St!"  were  his  words,  "I  have  hired  u  gig  v  ich  will  carry 
us  both,  P  itinas  is  loose  and  has  I  '*  rait  ig  heaven  and 
earth  to  get  at  us.  There  i.-  a  cri'  ^joing  rhft  rounds  of  the 
Forum  offering  a  thousand  sesterc  s  for  thu  return  of  Artemi- 
sia. Pratinas  has  gone  bef .  e  le  triumviri  capitales  *  and 
obtitined  iiom  them  an  ord»  •  u  the  apparitores*  to  track 
down  the  runaway  and  ^^^  r  aoettor." 

^^Eho!"  cried  Pisander  "th*>Ti  you'd  better  leave  youi 
treasure  here  awhile,  for  u.   to  take  care  of." 


1  Oue  of  their  functions  made  thest 
*  A  part  of  these  public  officers   •ttt 


Scsrs  practically  chiefs  of  police. 
'Uiod  ^K)lic«  duty. 


236 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


"Not  at  all,"  replied  Agias ;  "  I  could  have  taken  her  out  of 
the  city  at  once,  but  in  the  daytime  we  should  have  been  cer- 
tainly noticed  and  subsequently  tracked.  No  one  will  imag- 
ine Artemisia  is  here  — at  least  for  a  while.  But  this  is  a 
large  familia ;  all  may  be  my  friends,  but  all  may  not  have 
prudent  tongues  in  their  heads.  The  reward  is  large,  and 
perhaps  some  will  be  tempted;"  he  glanced  at  lasus,  who, 
to  do  him  justice,  had  never  thought  of  a  second  deed  of 
baseness.  "I  cannot  risk  that.  No,  Artemisia  goes  out  of 
the  city  to-night,  and  she  must  get  ready  without  the  least 
delay." 

Artemisia,  who  was  charmed  with  her  present  surroundings 
and  adulation, demurred  at  leaving  her  entertainers;  but  Agias 
was  imperative,  and  the  others  realized  well  enough  that  there 
was  not  much  time  to  be  lost.  Agias,  however,  waited  until  it 
had  become  tolerably  dark  before  starting.  Meantime,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  make  certain  changes  of  his  own  and  Artemisia's 
costume  that  indicated  the  rather  serious  character  of  the  risk 
he  was  preparing  to  run.  For  himself  he  put  on  a  very  full 
and  flowing  crimson  evening  dress,  as  if  he  were  proceeding 
to  a  dinner-party ;  he  piled  a  dozen  odd  rings  upon  his  fingers, 
and  laughingly  asked  Semiramis  to  arrange  his  hair  for  him  in 
the  most  fashionable  style,  and  anoint  it  heavily  with  Valeria's 
most  pimgent  perfumes.  At  the  same  time,  Arsinoe  was  quite 
transforming  Artemisia.  Valeria's  cosmetic  vials  were  for 
once  put  into  play  for  a  purpose,  and  when  Artemisia  re- 
appeared from  the  dressing-room  after  her  treatment,  Agias 
saw  before  him  no  longer  a  fair-skinned  little  Greek,  but  a 
small,  slender,  but  certainly  very  handsome  Egyptian  serving- 
lad,  with  bronzed  skin,  conspicuous  carmine  lips,  and  features 
that  Arsinofi's  paint  and  pencils  had  coarsoned  and  exaggei>> 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


237 


ated.  Fortunately,  the  classic  costume  both  for  men  and 
women  was  so  essentially  alike,  that  Artemisia  did  not  have 
to  undergo  that  mortification  from  a  change  of  clothes  which 
might  have  befallen  one  at  the  present  day  in  a  like  predica* 
ment.  Her  not  very  long  black  hair  was  loose,  and  shaken 
ove-  her  shoulders.  Agias  had  brought  for  her  a  short,  varie- 
gated lajcema,^  which  answered  well  enough  as  the  habit  of  a 
boy-vaJet  who  was  on  good  terms  with  his  master. 

"^Ao/"  cried  Agias,  when  he  had  witnessed  the  trans- 
formation, "we  must  hasten  or  Valeria  will  be  anxious  to 
keep  you  as  her  serving-boy !  Ah,  I  forgot  she  is  going  with 
her  dear  Pratinas  to  Egypt.  Now,  Arsinoe,  and  you,  Semira- 
mis,  I  shall  not  forget  the  good  turn  you  have  done  me ;  don't 
let  Valeria  miss  her  unguents  and  ask  questions  that  might 
prove  disagreeaMe.  Farewell,  lasus  and  Pisander;  we  shal? 
soon  meet  again,  the  gods  willing." 

The  friends  took  leave  of  Artemisia;  the  slave- women 
kissed  her ;  Pisander,  presuming  on  his  age,  kissed  her,  albeit 
very  sheepishly,  as  though  he  feared  the  ghosts  of  all  the 
Stoics  woiild  see  him.  lasus  cast  an  angry  jealous  glance  at 
the  philosopher ;  he  contented  himself  with  a  mere  shake  of 
the  hand. 

Agias  swung  Artemisia  into  the  gig  and  touched  the  lash  to 
the  swift  mules. 

"  Good-by,  dear  friends ! "  she  cried,  her  merry  Greek  smile 
shining  out  through  her  bronze  disguise. 

The  gig  rolled  down  the  street,  Agias  glancing  to  right  and 
left  to  see  that  no  inquisitive  ey  m  followed  thtm. 

"Oh!  Agias,"  cried  the  girl,  "  am  I  at  last  going  away  with 
you  ?  Going  away  all  alone,  with  only  you  to  take  care  of  me  ? 
[  feel— I  feel  queerly  1 " 

^  A  sort  uf  luuuile  held  on  the  sbuulden  by  a  clMp. 


238 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


'! 


Agias  only  touched  the  mules  again,  and  laughed  and 
squeezed  Artemisia's  hand,  then  more  gravely  said :  — 

"Now,  makaira,  you  must  do  everything  as  I  say,  or  we 
shall  never  get  away  from  Pratinas.  Remembar,  if  I  tell  you 
to  do  anything  you  must  do  it  instantly ;  and,  above  every- 
thing else,  no  matter  what  hapx>ens,  speak  not  a  word ;  don't 
scream  or  cry  or  utter  a  sound.  If  anybody  questions  us  I 
shall  say  that  I  am  a  gentleman  driving  out  to  the  suburbs  to 
enjoy  a  late  party  at  a  friend's  villa,  and  you  are  my  valet, 
who  is  a  mute,  whom  it  is  useless  to  question  because  he  can- 
not answer.    Do  you  understand  ?  " 

Artemisia  nodded  her  little  head,  and  bit  her  pretty  lips 
very  hard  to  keep  from  speaking.  The  fear  of  Pratinas  made 
her  all  obedience. 

It  was  after  sundown,  and  driving  was  permitted  in  the 
city,  though  nearly  all  the  teams  that  blocked  Agias's  way, 
as  he  drove  down  the  crowded  streets  to  turn  on  to  the  Via 
Appia,  were  heavy  wagons  loaded  with  timber  and  builders' 
stone. 

So  far,  all  was  safe  enough;  but  Agias  knew  perfectly  well 
that  Pratinas  was  an  awkward  man  to  have  for  an  enemy. 
The  critical  moment,  however,  was  close  at  hand,  and  Agias 
called  up  all  his  wits  to  meet  it.  Under  the  damp  arch  of  the 
ancient  Porta  Capena  were  pacing  several  men,  whose  lanterns 
and  clinking  sword-scabbards  proclaimed  them  to  be  members 
of  the  city  constabulary.  There  was  no  possibility  of  evading 
their  scrutiny.  No  doubt  any  other  gate  was  equally  well 
watched.  Agias  drove  straight  ahead,  as  though  he  had  seen 
nothing. 

"  Hold ! "  and  one  of  the  constables  was  at  the  heads  of  the 
mules,  aid  another  was  waving  a  lantern  up  into  the  face  of 
the  occupants  of  the  gig. 


PRATINAS  MEETS  ILL-FORTUNE 


239 


"Raacals,"  roared  Agias,  menacing  with  his  whip,  "are 
you  highwaymen  grown  so  impudent ! " 

**  We  have  an  order  from  the  triumviri,"  began  one  officer. 

"  Efu>  I "  replied  Agias,  settling  back,  as  though  relieved  not 
to  have  to  fight  for  his  purse,  "  I  can't  see  what  for ;  I  owe 
nothing.    I  have  no  suit  pending." 

"We  are  to  search  all  carriages  and  pedestrians,"  recom- 
menced the  constable,  "  to  find  if  we  may  a  certain  Artemisia, 
a  runaway  slave-girl  of  the  most  noble  Greek  gentleman, 
Pratinas." 

"  My  good  sirs,"  interrupted  Agias,  "  I  am  already  like  to  be 
very  late  at  my  dear  friend  Cimber's  dinner  party  "  — he  men- 
tioned the  name  of  the  owner  of  a  very  large  villa  not  far 
down  the  road ;  "  I  have  with  me  only  Midas,  my  mute  valet. 
If  you  detain  me  any  longer  I  shall  complain  —  " 

And  here  a  denarius  slipped  into  the  hands  of  the  officer 
with  the  lantern. 

"  I  think  it's  all  right,  Macer,"  7as  his  report  to  his  com- 
rade.   The  latter  left  the  heads  of  the  mules. 

"  Meherde  1  how  handsome  some  of  those  Egyptians  grow ! " 
commented  the  first  constable. 

But  the  rest  of  his  remarks  were  lost  on  Agias.  He  was 
whizzing  down  the  "  Queen  of  Roads,"  with  a  good  team  before 
him,  Artemisia  at  his  side,  and  a  happy  consciousness  that  two 
excellent  officials  had  missed  a  chance  to  earn  one  thousand 
sesterces. 

Hardly  wore  they  beyond  earshot,  when  Artemisia  burst  out 
into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  giggling,  which  lasted  a  long  time, 
only  to  be  renewed  and  renewed,  as  often  as  a  desperate  effort 
seemed  to  have  suppressed  it.  Then  she  drew  the  robes  of  the 
carriage  round  her,  laid  her  head  on  Agias's  shoulder,  and  with 
a  confidence  in  her  protector  that  would  have  inspired  him  to 


240 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


ii 

V 
i 

;ii 
•If 


.1 


go  through  file  and  water  for  her  sake,  shook  out  her  dark  locks 
and  fell  fast  asleep,  despite  the  fact  that  the  mules  were  run- 
ning their  fastest.  Agias  grasped  the  reins  with  one  hand,  and 
xnth  the  other  pressed  tight  the  sleeping  girl.  He  would  not 
have  exchanged  his  presenb  position  for  all  the  wealth  of 
Sardanapalus. 

********** 

Five  days  later  Agias  was  back  in  Rome.  He  had  succeeded 
in  reaching  Raise,  and  introducing  Artemisia  into  the  familia 
of  the  villa  of  the  Lentuli,  as  a  new  waiting-maid  from  Rome 
sent  by  Claudia  to  her  daughter.  For  the  present  at  least  there 
was  practically  no  chance  of  Pratinas  recovering  his  lost  prop- 
erty. And  indeed,  when  Agias  reached  Rome  once  more,  all 
fears  in  that  direction  were  completely  pet  at  rest.  The  fash- 
ionable circle  in  which  Claudia  and  Herennia  were  enmeshed 
was  in  a  flutter  and  a  chatter  over  no  ordinary  scandal. 
Valeria,  wife  of  Calatinus,  and  Pratinas,  the  "charming" 
Epicurean  philosopher,  had  both  fled  Rome  two  days  before, 
and  rumour  had  it  that  they  had  embarked  together  at  Ostia  on 
a  ship  leaving  direct  for  Egypt.  Of  course  Calatinus  was 
receiving  all  the  sympathy,  and  was  a  much  abused  man ;  and 
so  the  tongues  ran  on. 

To  Agias  this  great  event  brought  a  considerable  gain  in 
peace  of  mind,  and  some  little  loss.  Valeria  had  taken  with 
her  her  two  maids,  Agias's  good  friends,  and  also  lasus. 
Pisander  ignominiously  had  been  left  behind.  Calatinus  had 
no  use  for  the  man  of  learning,  and  Agias  was  fain  to  take  him 
before  Drusus,  who  had  returned  from  Ravenna,  and  induce 
his  patron  to  give  Pisander  sufficient  capital  to  start  afresh  a 
public  school  of  philosophy,  although  the  chances  of  acquiring 
opulence  in  that  profession  were  sufficiently  meagre. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BAIM 


CoBNELiA  was  at  Baise,  the  famous  watering-place,  upon 
the  classic  Neapolitan  bay,  — which  was  the  Brighton  or  New- 
port of  the  Roman.  Here  was  the  haunt  of  the  sybarites, 
whose  gay  barks  skimmed  the  shallow  waters  of  the  Lucrine 
lake;  and  not  far  off  slumbered  in  its  volcanic  hollow  that 
other  lake,  Avernus,  renowned  in  legend  and  poetry,  through 
whose  caverns,  fable  had  it,  lay  the  entrance  to  the  world  of 
the  dead.  The  whole  country  about  was  one  city  of  stately 
villas,  of  oool  groves,  of  bright  gardens;  a  huge  pleasure 
world,  where  freedom  too  often  became  license;  where  the 
dregs  of  the  nectar  cup  too  often  meant  physical  ruin  and 
moral  death. 

Cornelia  had  lost  all  derire  to  die  now.  She  no  loi  iv 
thought  of  suicide.  Lentulus's  freedmen  held  her  in  ci.  se 
surveillance,  but  she  was  very  happy.  Drusus  lived,  was 
safe,  would  do  great  things,  would  win  a  name  and  a  fame 
in  the  world  of  politics  and  arms.  For  herself  she  had  but 
one  ambition  — to  hear  men  say,  "This  woman  is  the  wife 
of  the  great  Quintus  Drusus."  That  would  have  been  Elysium 
indeed.  Cornelia,  in  fact,  was  building  around  her  a  world  of 
sweet  fantasy,  that  grew  so  real,  so  tangible,  that  the  stem 
realities  of  life,  realities  that  had  hitherto  worn  out  her  rtry 
B  S41 


242 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAE 


M 


soul,  became  less  galling.  The  reaction  following  the  col- 
lapse  of  the  plot  against  Drusus  had  thrown  her  into  an 
unnatural  cheerfulness.  For  the  time  the  one  thought  when 
she  arose  in  the  morning,  the  one  thought  when  she  fell  asleep 
at  night,  was,  "One  day,"  or  "One  night  more  is  gone,  of  the 
time  that  severs  me  from  Quintus."  It  was  a  strained,  an 
unhealthy  cheerfulness;  but  while  it  lasted  it  made  all  the 
world  fair  for  Cornelia.  Indeed,  she  had  no  right  —  from  one 
way  of  thinking  —  not  to  enjoy  herself,  unless  it  be  that  she 
had  no  congenial  companions.  The  villa  of  the  Lentuli  was 
one  of  the  newest  and  finest  at  Baise.  It  rested  on  a  sort 
of  breakwater  built  out  into  the  sea,  so  that  the  waves  actu- 
ally beat  against  the  embankment  at  the  foot  of  Cornelia's 
chamber.  The  building  rose  in  several  stories,  each  smaller 
than  the  one  below  it,  an  ornamental  cupola  highest  of  all. 
On  the  successive  terraces  were  formally  plotted,  but  luxu- 
riant, gardens.  Cornelia,  from  her  room  in  the  second  story, 
could  command  a  broad  vista  of  the  bay.  Puteoli  was  only 
two  miles  distant.  Vesuvius  was  ten  times  as  far;  but  the 
eye  swept  clear  down  the  verdant  coast  toward  Surrentum 
to  the  southward.  At  her  feet  was  the  sea, — the  Italian, 
Neapolitan  sea,  —  dancing,  sparkling,  dimpling  from  the  first 
flush  of  morning  to  the  last  glint  of  the  fading  western 
clouds  at  eve.  The  azure  above  glowed  with  living  bright- 
ness, and  by  night  the  stars  and  planets  burned  and  twinkled 
down  from  a  crystalline  void,  through  which  the  unfettered 
soul  might  soar  and  soar,  swimming  onward  through  the 
sweet  darkness  of  the  infinite. 

And  there  were  pleasures  enough  for  Cornelia  if  she  would 
join  therein.  Lentulus  had  ordered  his  freedmen  not  to  deny 
her  amusements;  anything,  in  fact,  that  would  divert  her 
from  her  morbid  infatuation  for  Drusus.    The  consul-desig- 


J 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BAI^ 


243 


nate  had  indeed  reached  the  conclusion  that  his  niece  was 
suffering  some  serious  mental  derangement,  or  she  would  not 
thus  continue  to  pursue  a  profitless  passion,  obviously  impos- 
sible of  fulfilment.     So  Cornelia  had  every  chance  to  make 
herself  a  centre  to  those  gay  pleasure-seekers  who  were  still 
at  Bai»;  for  the  summer  season  was  a  little  past,  and  all 
but  confirmed  or  fashionable  invalids  and  professional  vaca- 
tioners were  drifting  back  to  Eome.    For  a  time  all  went 
merrily  enough.    Just  sufficient  of  the  Lucius  Ahenobarbus 
affair  had  come  to  the  Baiaeans  to  make  Cornelia  the  object 
of  a  great  amount  of  curiosity.     When  she  invited  a  select 
number  of  the  pleasure-seekers  to  her  dinner  parties,  she 
had  the  adulation  and  plaudits  of  every  guest,  and  plenty  of 
return  favours.     Lucius  Ahenobarbus  soon  had  a  score  of  hot 
rivals;  and  Cornelia's  pretty  face  was  chipped  on  more  than 
one  admirer's  seal  ring.     But  presently  it  began  to  be  said 
that  the  niece  of  the  consul-designate  was  an  extremely  stoical 
and  peculiar  woman;  she  did  not  enjoy  freedom  which  the 
very  air  of  Baiae  seemed  to  render  inevitable.     She  never 
lacked  wit  and  vivacity,  but  there  was  around  her  an  air  of 
restraint  and  cold  modesty  that  was  admirable  in  every  way 
—  only  it  would  never  do  in  Baiae.     And  so  Cornelia,  without 
ceasing  to  be  admired,  became  less  courted;  and  presently, 
quite  tiring  of  the  butterfiy  life,  was  thrown  back  more  and 
more  on  herself  and  on  her  books.     This  did  not  disturb  her. 
A  levee  or  a  banquet  had  never  given  her  perfect  pleasure; 
and  it  was  no  delight  to  know  that  half  the  women  of  Baiae 
hated  her  with  a  perfect  jealousy.    Cornelia  read  and  studied, 
now  Greek,  now  Latin;  and  sometimes  caught  herself  half 
wishing  to  be  a  man  and  able  to  expound  a  cosmogony,  or  to 
decide  the  fate  of  empires  by  words  flung  down  from  the 
rostrum.    Then  finally  Agias  came  bringing  Artemisia,  who, 


244 


A  FEIEND  OF  CiESAR 


as  has  been  related,  was  introduced  —  by  means  of  some  little 
contriving  —  into  the  familia  as  a  new  serving-maid.  Such 
Artemisia  was  in  name;  but  Cornelia,  whose  gratitude  to 
Agias  had  known  no  bounds,  took  the  little  thing  into  her 
heart,  and  determined  to  devote  herself  to  instructing  an  inno- 
cence that  must  not  continue  too  long,  despite  its  charming 
nt^vetd. 

Thus  the  days  had  passed  for  Cornelia.  But  only  a 
little  while  after  Agias  left  for  Home,  —  with  a  very  large 
packet  of  letters  for  Drusus,  —  the  pleasant,  self -created  world 
of  fantasy,  that  had  given  Cornelia  some  portion  of  happi- 
ness, vanished.  Like  a  clap  of  thunder  from  a  cloudless  sky 
Lucius  Ahenobarbus  suddenly  arrived  in  Baise.  He  was  tired 
of  Rome,  which  was  still  very  hot  and  uncomfortable.  He 
loathed  politics,  they  were  stupid.  He  had  lost  a  boon  com- 
panion when  Fublius  Gabinius  was  driven  into  outlawry. 
Marcus  Laeca  was  too  deeply  in  debt  to  give  any  more  din- 
ners. Fratinas  was  fled  to  Egypt.  And  so  he  had  come  to 
Baiee,  to  harass  Cornelia  by  his  presence;  to  gibe  at  her; 
and  assure  her  that  her  uncle  was  more  determined  than  ever 
that  she  should  marry  him  —  say  and  do  what  she  might. 

Ahenobarbus  quartered  himself  in  the  Lentulan  villa  as  the 
prospective  nephew-in-law  of  its  owner.  He  brought  with 
him  iiis  customary  train  of  underlings,  and  had  travelled  in 
appropriate  state,  in  a  litter  with  eight  picked  bearers,  lolling 
on  a  cushion  stuffed  with  rose-leaves,  and  covered  with  Maltese 
gauze,  one  garland  on  his  head,  another  roun  'tis  neck,  and 
holding  to  his  nose  a  smelling-bag  of  small  .teshed  linen 
filled     ith  roses. 

With  all  his  effeminacy,  he  was  beyond  the  least  doubt 
desperately  determined  to  possess  himself  of  Cornelia.  His 
pusion  was  purely  animal  and  vinrefined,  but  none  oould  doubt 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BALE 


245 


it.  Cornelia  feared  to  have  him  near  her,  and  knew  peace 
neither  day  nor  night.  He  assumed  all  a  master's  rights  over 
the  slaves  and  freedmen,  sending  them  hither  and  yon  to  do 
his  bidding.  He  had  recovered  from  the  fear  Cornelia  had 
struck  into  him,  in  her  first  defiance,  and  met  her  threats  and 
hauteur  with  open  scorn. 

"You  are  a  most  adorable  actress! »  was  his  constant  sneer. 
And  his  every  action  told  that  ho  did  not  intend  to  let  Cor- 
nelia play  with  him  a  second  time.  With  all  his  profligacy 
and  moral  worthlessness,  he  had  a  tenacity  of  purpose  and  an 
energy  in  this  matter  that  showed  that  either  Cornelia  must  in 
the  end  bow  to  his  will,  or  their  contest  would  end  in  something 
very  like  a  tragedy. 

And  if  a  tragedy,  so  be  it,  was  the  desperate  resolve  of  Cor- 
nelia; whose  eyes  were  too  stem  for  tears  when  she  saw  that 
Lucius  was  still  the  former  creature  of  appetite;    full  of 
intrigue,  sweethearts,  seashore  revels,  carouses,  singing,  and 
music  parties  and  water  excursions  with  creatures  of  his 
choice  from  morning  until  midnight.     She  could  not  alto- 
gether shun  him,  though  she  successfully  resisted  his  half 
blandishments,  half  coercion,  to  make  her  join  in  his  wild 
frivolities.    One  revenge  she  found  she  could  take  on  him  — 
a  revenge  that  she  enjoyed  because  it  proclaimed  her  own 
intellectual  superiority,  and  made  Ahenobarbus  writhe  with 
imjwtent  vexation  — she  had  him  at  her  mercy  when  they 
played  at  checkers;'*  and  at  last  Lucvts  lost  so  much  money 
and  temper  at  this  game  of  wit,  not  chance,  that  he  would 
sulkily  decline  a  challenge.    But  this  was  poor  consolation 
to  Cornelia.     The  time  was  drifting  on.     Before  many  days 
Lentulus  Crus  and  Caius  Clodius  Marcellus  would  be  consuls, 
and  the  anti-Caesarians  would  be  ready  to  work  their  great 

1  Latruneuli. 


246 


A  FBIEND  OF  CiESAR 


opponent's  undoing,  or  be  themselves  forever  undone.  Where 
was  Drusus?  What  was  he  doing?  What  part  would  he 
play  in  the  struggle,  perhaps  of  arms,  about  to  begin?  O 
for  one  sight  of  him,  for  one  word  1  And  the  hunger  in  Cor- 
nelia's breast  grew  and  grew. 

Many  are  our  wishes.  Some  flit  through  our  hearts  like 
birds  darting  under  the  foliage  of  trees,  then  out  again,  lost, 
in  the  sunshine;  others  linger  awhile  and  we  nestle  them  in 
our  bosoms  until  we  forget  that  they  are  there,  and  the  noble 
desire,  the  craving  for  something  dear,  for  something  that 
bears  for  us  as  it  were  a  divine  image,  is  gone  — we  are  the 
poorer  that  we  no  longer  wish  to  wish  it.  But  some  things 
there  are  —  some  things  too  high  or  too  deep  for  speech,  too 
secret  fox  really  conscious  thought,  too  holy  to  call  from  the 
innermofit  shrines  of  the  heart;  and  there  they  linger  and 
hover,  demanding  to  be  satisfied,  and  until  they  are  satisfied 
there  is  void  and  dreariness  within,  be  the  sunshine  never  so 
bright  without.  And  so  Cornelia  was  a-hungered.  She  could 
fight  against  herself  to  save  Drusus's  life  no  longer;  she  could 
build  around  herself  her  dream  castles  no  more;  she  must  see 
him  face  to  face,  must  hold  his  hand  in  hers,  must  feel  his 
breath  on  her  cheek. 

Is  it  but  a  tale  that  is  told,  that  soul  can  communicate  to 
distant  soul?  That  through  two  sundered  hearts  without 
visible  communication  can  spring  up,  unforewamed,  a  single 
desire,  a  single  purpose?  Is  there  no  magnetism  subtle  beyond 
all  thought,  that  bounds  from  spirit  to  spirit,  defying  every 
bond,  every  space?  We  may  not  say;  but  if  Cornelia  longed, 
she  longed  not  utterly  in  vain.  One  rooming,  as  she  was 
dressing,  Cassandra,  who  was  moving  around  the  room  aiding 
her  mistress,  let  fall  a  very  tiny  slip  of  papyrus  into  Cornelia's 
lap,  and  with  it  a  whisper,  "Don't  look;  but  keep  it  care- 


WHAT   BEFELL  AT  BAIiE 


247 


fully."  The  injunction  was  needed,  for  several  otlier  serving- 
women  were  in  the  room,  and  Cornelia  more  than  suspected 
that  they  were  ready  to  spy  on  her  to  prevent  unauthorized 
correspondence  with  Drusus.  When  she  was  dressed,  and 
could  walk  alone  on  the  terrace  overlooking  the  sea,  she 
unrolled  the  papyrus  and  read:  — 

"Delectissim?,  I  have  come  from  Rome  to  Put^oli.  I  can- 
not live  longer  without  seeing  you.  Great  things  are  stirring, 
and  it  may  well  be  that  ere  long,  if  your  uncle  and  his  friends 
have  their  way,  I  may  be  a  proscribed  fugitive  from  Italy,  or 
a  dead  man.  But  I  must  talk  with  your  dear  self  first.  Agias 
was  known  by  the  familia,  and  had  no  difficulty  in  seeing 
you  quietly;  but  I  have  no  such  facility.  I  cannot  remain 
long.  Plan  how  we  may  meet  and  not  be  interrupted.  I 
have  taken  Cassandra  into  my  pay,  and  believe  that  she  can 
be  trusted.     Vale." 

There  was  no  name  of  the  sender;  but  Cornelia  did  not  need 
to  question.  Cassandra,  who  evidently  knew  that  her  mis- 
tress would  require  her  services,  came  carelessly  strolling  out 
on  to  the  terrace. 

"Cassandra,"  said  Cornelia,  "the  last  time  I  saw  Quintus, 
you  betrayed  us  to  my  uncle;  will  you  be  more  faithful 
now?" 

The  woman  hung  down  her  head. 

"A!  domina,  your  uncle  threatened  me  terribly.  I  did 
not  intentionally  betray  you!  Did  I  not  receive  my  beating? 
And  then  Master  Drusus  is  such  a  handsome  and  generous 
young  gentleman." 

"I  can  rely  on  you  alone,"  replied  Cornelia.  "You  must 
arrange  everything.  If  you  are  untrue,  be  sure  that  it  is  not 
I  who  will  in  the  end  punish,  but  Master  Drusus,  whose 
memory  is  long.    You  have  more  schemes  than  I,  now  that 


r 


■;r(l 


n 


i 


348 


A  PEIEND  OF  CiESA.B 


Agias  is  not  here  to  devise  for  me.  Tou  most  make  up  any 
stories  that  are  necessary  to  save  us  from  interruption,  and 
see  that  no  one  discovers  anything  or  grows  suspicious.  My 
hands  are  tied.  I  cannot  see  to  plan.  I  will  go  to  the 
library,  and  leave  everything  to  you." 

And  with  this  stoical  resolve  to  bear  with  equanimity  whii*- 
ever  the  Fates  flung  in  her  way  for  good  or  ill,  Cornelia  trio:; 
to  bury  herself  in  her  Lucretius.  Vain  resolution!  What 
care  for  the  atomic  theory  when  in  a  day,  an  hour,  a  moment, 
she  might  be  straining  to  her  heart  another  heart  that  was 
reaching  out  toward  hers,  as  hers  did  toward  it.  It  was 
useless  to  read;  \iseless  to  try  to  admire  the  varying  shades 
of  blue  on  the  sea,  tones  of  green,  and  tones  of  deep  cerulean, 
deepening  and  deepening,  as  her  eye  drifted  off  toward  the 
horizon,  like  the  blendings  of  a  chromatic  series.  And  so 
Cornelia  passed  the  morning  in  a  mood  of  joyful  discontent. 
Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  who  came  to  have  his  usual  passage  of 
arms  with  her,  found  her  so  extremely  affable,  yet  half-pre- 
occupied, that  he  was  puzzled,  yet  on  the  whole  delighted. 
"She  must  be  yielding,"  he  mentally  commented;  and  when 
they  played  at  draughts,  Cornelia  actually  allowed  herself  to 
be  beaten.  Ahenobarbus  started  off  for  Puteoli  in  an  excel- 
lent humour.  His  litter  had  barely  swung  down  the  road 
from  the  villa  before  Cassandra  was  knocking  at  her  mistress's 
chamber  door. 

"/o/  domina,"  was  her  joyful  exclamation,  "I  think  I 
have  got  every  eavesdropper  out  of  the  way.  Ahenobarbus 
is  off  for  Puteoli.  I  have  cooked  up  a  story  to  keep  the 
freedmen  and  other  busybodies  off.  You  have  a  desperate 
headache,  and  cannot  leave  the  room,  nor  see  any  one.  But 
remember  the  terrace  over  the  water,  where  the  colonnade 
shuts  it  in  on  all  sides  but  toward  the  sea.    This  afternoon. 


WHAT  BEFELL  ^T  BAI^ 


249 


if  a  boat  with  two  strange-lcxiking  fiahermen  passes  under  the 
embankment,  don't  be  surprised/' 

And  having  imparted  this  precious  bit  of  information,  the 
woman  was  off.  Drusus's  gold  pieces  had  made  her  the  most 
snccessful  of  schemers. 

II 

Cornelia  feigned  her  ht^adache,  and  succeeded  in  making 
herself  so  thoroughly  petulant  and  exacting  to  all  her  maifU, 
that  when  she  ordered  tfiem  out  of  t  le  room,  and  told  them  on 
no  account  to  distnb  her  in  any  rPS]>f>i  r  for  the  rest  of  the 
day,  they  " rejoiced  with  .emliiiik^,"  and  had  no  anxiety  to 
thrust  their  attentions  upoii  o  uur*  asonable  a  mistress.  And 
a  little  while  later  a  visit  of  i  strolling  juggler  —  w  lOse  call 
had  perhaps  been  ^.rompted  by  Ciwaaudra  — made  their  respite 
from  duty  doubly  welcome. 

Cornelia  was  left  to  herself,  and  spent  the  next  hour  in  a 
division  of  labour  before  her  si]"er  wall-mirror,  dressing  — 
something  which  was  sufficiently  troublesome  for  her,  a^us- 
tomed  to  the  se^  vices  of  a  bevy  of  maids  —  and  at  the  windc 
gazing  toward  Puteoli  for  the  fishing-boat  that  seemed  never 
\u  sight.  At  last  the  toilet  was  completed  to  her  satisfaction. 
Cornelia  surveyed  herself  in  her  best  silken  purple  flounced 
stola,  thrust  the  lr.?t  pin  into  her  hair,  and  confined  it  all 
in  a.  net  of  golden  thread.  Roman  n  -'.ens  were  not  as  a 
rule  taught  to  be  modest  about  their  inns,  and  Cornelia, 
with  perfect  frankness,  said  aloud  to  herself,  "You  are  so 
beautiful  that  Drusus  can't  help  loving  you;"  and  with  this 
candid  confession,  she  was  a<?ain  on  the  terrace,  straining  her 
eyes  toward  Puteoli.  Bo,t3cn.i.r,  Iwats  went,  but  there  was 
none  that  approached  the  villa;  and  Cornelia  began  to  harboui 
dark  thoughts  against  Cassandra. 


260 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


"If  the  wretched  woman  had  played  false  to  her  mistress 
again  —  "  but  the  threat  was  never  formulated.  There  was  a 
chink  and  click  of  a  pair  of  oars  moving  on  their  thole-piu«. 
For  an  instant  a  skiff  was  visible  at  the  foot  of  the  embank- 
ment; two  occupants  were  in  it.  The  boat  disappeared  unaer 
the  friendly  cover  of  the  protecting  sea-wall  of  the  lower 
terrace.  There  was  a  little  landing-place  here,  with  a  few 
steps  leading  upward,  where  now  and  then  a  yacht  was 
moored.  The  embankment  shut  off  this  tiny  wharf  from  view 
on  either  side.  Cornelia  dared  not  leave,  the  upper  terrace. 
Her  heart  beat  faster  and  faster.  Below  she  heard  the  slap, 
slap,  of  the  waves  on  the  sea-wall,  and  a  rattle  of  rings  and 
ropes  as  some  skiff  was  being  made  fast.  An  instant  more 
and  Drusus  was  coming,  with  quick,  athletic  bounds,  up  the 
stairway  to  the  second  terrace  It  was  he!  she  saw  him!  In 
her  eyes  he  was  everything  ia  physique  and  virile  beauty  that 
a  maiden  of  the  Republic  could  desire!  The  bitterness  and 
waiting  of  months  were  worth  the  blessedness  of  the  instant. 
Cornelia  never  knew  what  Drusus  said  to  her,  or  what  she 
said  to  him.  She  only  knew  that  he  was  holding  her  in  his 
strong  arms  and  gazing  into  her  eyes;  while  the  hearts  of 
both  talked  to  one  another  so  fast  that  they  had  neither 
time  nor  need  for  words.  They  were  happy,  happy!  Long  it 
was  before  their  utterance  passed  beyond  the  merest  words  of 
endearment;  longer  still  before  they  were  composed  enough  for 
Cornelia  to  listen  to  Drusus  while  he  gave  his  own  account  of 
Mamercus's  heroic  resistance  to  Dumnorix's  gang  at  Prae- 
neste;  and  told  of  his  own  visit  to  Ravenna,  of  his  intense 
admiration  for  the  proconsul  of  the  two  Gauls ;  and  of  how  he 
had  come  to  Puteoli  and  opened  communications  with  Cassan- 
dra, through  Cappadox,  the  trusty  body-servant  who  in  the 
guise  of  a  fisherman  was  waiting  in  the  boat  below. 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BAI^ 


251 


"And  as  Homer  puts  it,  so  with  us,"  cried  Cornelia,  at 
length:  "'And  so  the  pair  h^d  joy  in  happy  love,  and  joyed 
in  talking  too,  and  each  relating;  she,  the  royal  lady,  what 
she  had  endured  at  home,  watching  the  wasteful  throng  of 
suitors;  and  he,  high-born  Odysseus,  what  miseries  he 
brought  on  other  men,  and  bore  himself  in  anguish;  —  all 
he  told,  and  she  was  glad  to  hear.'" 

So  laughed  Cornelia  when  all  their  stories  were  finished, 
likening  their  reunion  to  that  of  the  son  of  Laertes  and  the 
long-faithful  Penelope. 

"  How  long  were  Penelope  and  Odysseus  asunder? "  quoth 
Drusus. 

"Twenty  years." 

"  Vah  1  We  have  not  been  sundered  twenty  months  or 
one-third  as  many.  How  shall  we  make  the  time  fly  more 
rapidly?" 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Cornelia,  for  the  first  time  looking  down 
and  sighing,  "a  lifetime  seems  very  long;  but  lifetimes  will 
pass.  I  shall  be  an  old  woman  in  a  few  years;  and  my  hair 
will  be  all  grey,  and  you  won't  love  me." 

"Eho,"  cried  Drusus,  "do  you  think  I  love  you  for  your 
hair?" 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Cornelia,  shaking  her  head,  "I  am 
afraid  so.  What  is  there  in  me  more  than  any  other  woman 
that  you  should  love;  except  —  "  and  here  she  raised  her  face 
half-seriously,  half  in  play  —  "  I  um  very  beautiful  ?  Ah !  if 
I  were  a  man,  I  would  have  something  else  to  be  loved  for;  I 
would  hare  eloquence,  or  strength,  or  power  of  command,  or 
wisdom  in  philosophy.  But  no,  I  can  be  loved  for  only  two 
things;  an  ignoble  or  a  poor  man  would  take  me  if  I  were 
hideous  as  Atropos,  for  I  am  noble,  and,  if  ray  uncle  were  an 
honest  guardian,  rich.    But  you  need  not  regard  these  at  ally 


*i| 


L 


252 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


80 — "  and  she  brushed  her  face  across  Drusus's  oheek,  toucb 
ing  it  with  her  hair. 

"0  Cornelia,"  cried  the  young  man,  out  of  the  fulness  of 
his  heart,  "we  must  not  waste  this  precious  time  asking  why 
we  love  each  other.    Love  each  other  we  do  as  long  as  we 
view  the  sun.     0  carissimat  we  cannot  trust  ourselves  to 
look  too  deeply  into  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  things.     We 
men  and  women  are  so  ignorant!    We  know  nothing.     What 
is  all  our  philosophy  —  words !    What  is  all  our  state  religion 
—empty  form  I    What  is  all  our  life  — a  dream,  mostly  evil, 
that  comes  out  of  the  eternal  unconscious  sleep  and  into  that 
unconscious  sleep  will  return!    And  yet  not  all  a  dream; 
for  when  I  feel  your  hands  in  mine  I  know  that  I  am  not 
dreaming— for  dreamers  feel  nothing  so  delicious  as  this! 
Not  long  ago  I  recalled  what  old  Artabanus  said  to  King 
Xerxes  when  the  millions  of  Persia  passed  in  review  before 
their  lord  at  Abydos,  'Short  as  our  time  is,  death,  through 
the  wretchedness  of  our  life,  is  the  most  sweet  refuge  of  our 
race;  and  God,  who  gives  us  tastes  that  we  enjoy  of  pleasant 
times,  is  seen,  in  His  very  gift,   to  be  envious.'     And  I 
thought,  'How  wise  was  the  Persian! '     And  then  I  thought, 
'No,  though  to  live  were  to  drag  one's  days  in  torture  and  in 
woe,  if  only  love  come  once  into  life,  an  eternity  of  misery  is 
endurable;  yes,   to  be  chained  forever,  as  Prometheus,  on 
drearest  mountain  crag,  if  only  the  fire  which  is  stolen  be 
that  which  kindles  soul  by  soul.' " 

"  Ah! "  cried  Cornelia,  "if  only  these  were  to  be  real  souls! 
But  what  can  we  say?  See  my  Lucretius  here;  read:  '  I  have 
shown  ^he  soul  to  be  formed  fine  and  to  be  of  minute  bodies 
and  made  up  of  much  smaller  first-beginnings  than  the  liquid 
air,  or  mist,  or  smoke.  As  you  see  water,  when  the  vessels 
are  shattered,  flow  away  on  every  side,  and  as  mist  and  smoke 


WF4.T  BEFELL  AT  BAI^ 


253 


vanish  away  into  the  air,  believe  that  the  soul,  too,  is  shed 
abroad,  and  perishes  much  more  quickly  and  dissolves  soonei 
into  its  first  bodies,  when  once  it  hajs  been  taken  out  of  the 
limbs  of  a  man  and  has  withdrawn.'  O  Qumtus,  is  the 
t^ing  within  me  that  loves  you  lighter,  more  fragile,  than 
smoke?  Shall  I  blow  away,  and  vanish  into  nothingness? 
It  is  that  which  affrights  me!" 

And  Drusus  tried  as  best  he  might  to  comfort  her,  telling 
her  there  was  no  danger  that  she  or  he  would  be  dissi- 
pated speedily,  and  that  she  must  not  fret  her  dear  head  with 
things  that  set  the  sagest  greybeards  a-wrangling.  Then  he 
told  her  about  the  political  world,  and  how  in  a  month  at  most 
either  every  cloud  would  have  cleared  away,  and  Lentulus  be 
in  no  position  to  resist  the  legal  claims  which  Drusus  had  on 
the  hand  of  his  niece;  or,  if  war  came,  if  fortune  but  favoured 
CsBsar,  Cornelia's  waiting  for  deliverance  would  not  be  for 
long.  Drusus  did  not  dwell  on  the  alternative  presented  if 
civic  strife  came  to  arms;  he  only  knew  that,  come  what 
might,  Cornelia  could  never  be  driven  to  become  the  bride  of 
Lucius  Ahenobarbus;  and  he  had  no  need  to  exact  a  new 
pledge  of  her  faithful  devotion. 

So  at  last,  like  everything  terrestrial  that  is  sweet  and 
lovely,  the  slowly  advancing  afternoon  warned  Drusus  that 
for  this  day,  at  least,  they  must  separate. 

"  I  will  come  again  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  if  Cassandra 
can  so  arrange,"  said  he,  tearing  himself  away.  "But  part 
to-night  we  must,  nor  will  it  make  amends  to  imitate  Carbo, 
who,  when  he  was  being  led  to  execution,  was  suddenly  seized 
with  a  pain  in  the  stomach,  and  begged  not  to  be  beheaded 
until  he  should  feel  a  little  better." 

He  kissed  her,  strained  her  to  his  breast,  and  stepped 
toward  the  landiug-place.    Cappadox  had  taken  the  boat  out 


254 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


m  i 


from  the  moorings  to  minimize  a  chance  of  discovery  by  some 
one  in  the  house.  Drusus  was  just  turning  for  a  last  embrace, 
when  many  voices  and  the  plash  of  oars  sounded  below.  Cor- 
nelia staggered  with  dread. 

"It's  Ahenobarbus,"  she  gasped,  in  a  deathly  whisper;  "he 
sometimes  comes  back  from  Puteoli  by  boat.  He  will  murder 
you  when  he  finds  you  here ! " 

"Can't  I  escape  through  the  house?" 

The  words,  however,  were  no  sooner  out  of  Drusus's  mouth, 
than  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  dressed  in  the  most  fashionably  cut 
scarlet  lacerna,  perfumed  and  coifFured  to  a  nicety,  appeared 
on  the  terrace.  Some  evil  genius  had  led  him  straight  up 
without  the  least  delay. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  two  enemies  had  met  face  to 
face  since  Drusus  had  declined  the  invitation  to  Marcus  Lssca's 
supper.  Be  it  said  to  Lucius's  credit  that  he  sensed  the 
situation  with  only  the  minimum  of  confusion,  and  instantly 
realized  all  of  Cornelia's  worst  fears.  Drusus  had  drawn  back 
from  the  steps  to  the  lower  terrace,  and  stood  with  stern  brow 
and  knotted  fist,  trapped  by  a  blunder  that  could  hardly  have 
been  guarded  against,  no  submissive  victim  to  what  fate  had 
in  store.  Cornelia,  for  once  quite  distraught  with  terror, 
cowered  on  a  bench,  unable  to  scream  through  sheer  fright. 

"Salve I  amice,"  was  the  satirical  salutation  of  Aheno- 
barbus. "How  excellently  well  met.  HeusI  Phaon,  bring 
your  boatmen,  quick!    Not  an  instant  to  lose!" 

"Pity!  mercy!"  gasped  Cornelia,  "I  will  do  anything  for 
you,  but  spare  him; "  and  she  made  as  if  to  fall  on  her  knees 
before  Ahenobarbus. 

"  Girl ! "  Drusus  had  never  spoken  in  that  way  to  her  before ; 
his  tones  were  cold  as  ice.  "Go  into  the  house!  Your  place 
is  not  here.    If  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  intends  to  murder  me  —  " 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BAIiE 


?n5 


The  boatmen  and  two  or  three  other  slaves  that  were 
always  at  Ahenobarbus's  heels  were  crowding  up  on  to  the 
terrace  ready  to  do  their  master's  bidding. 

"Throw  me  that  fellow  over  the  balcony,"  ordered  Lucius, 
his  sense  of  triumph  and  opportunity  mastering  every  fear 
that  Flaccus  would  execute  his  threat  of  prosecution.  "  See 
that  he  does  not  float! " 

Cornelia  found  her  voice.  She  screamed,  screamed  shrilly 
and  ran  into  the  house.  Already  the  familia  was  alarmed. 
Two  or  three  freedmen  of  Lentulus  were  rushing  toward  the 
terrace.  They  were  murdering  QuintusI  He  was  resisting, 
resisting  with  all  the  powers  of  a  wild  animal  driven  to  its 
last  lair.  Outside,  on  the  terrace,  where  but  an  instant  before 
she  and  her  lover  were  cooing  in  delicious  ecstasy,  there  were 
oaths,  blows,  and  the  sharp  pants  and  howls  of  mortal  struggle. 
And  she  could  do  nothing  —  nothing!  And  it  was  through  his 
love  for  her  that  Drusus  was  to  go  down  to  his  untimely  gravel 
The  seconds  of  struggle  and  anguish  moved  on  leaden  feet. 
Every  breath  was  agony,  every  sound  maddening.  And  she 
could  do  nothing  —  nothing.  Still  they  were  fighting.  Phaon 
—  she  knew  his  voice  — was  crying  out  as  if  in  grievous  pain. 
And  now  the  voice  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  sounded  again: 
"One  thousand  denarii  if  you  fling  him  into  the  sea!"  and 
she  could  do  nothing  — nothing!  She  tore  down  the  purple 
tapestries  around  her  bed,  and  dashed  from  its  tripod  a  costly 
bowl  of  opal  Alexandrian  glass  — all  in  the  mere  rage  of 
impotence.  And  still  they  were  fighting.  What  was  that 
ornament  hanging  on  the  wall,  half  hid  behind  the  torn  tap- 
estry? A  scabbard  — a  sword,  some  relic  of  ancient  wars! 
And  all  the  combatants  were  unarmed !  The  antique  weapon 
was  held  by  stout  thongs  to  the  wall;  she  plucked  it  from 
its  fastenings  with  the  strength  of  a  Titaness.    The  rusty  blade 


11 


256 


1 


A  FRIEND  OF  C-SISAB 


resisted  an  instant;  she  dragged  it  forth.  Then  out  on  to  the 
terrace.  Really  only  a  moment  had  elapsed  since  she  left  it. 
One  of  the  slaves  was  lying  dead,  or  stunned^  prone  on  the 
turf.  Phaon  was  writhing  and  howling  beside  him,  nursing  a 
broken  jaw.  The  other  assailants  had  sunk  back  in  temporary 
repulse  and  were  preparing  for  a  second  rush.  Drusus  was 
still  standing.  He  half  leaned  upon  the  stone  pedestal  of  an 
heroic-sized  Athena,  who  seemed  to  be  spreading  her  protect- 
ing aegis  above  him.  His  garments  were  rent  to  the  veriest 
shreds.  His  features  were  hidden  behind  streaming  blood, 
his  arms  and  neck  were  bruised  and  bleeding;  but  clearly 
his  adversaries  could  not  yet  congratulate  themselves  that  the 
lion's  strength  was  too  sapped  to  be  no  longer  dreaded. 

"Come,  you,"  was  his  hot  challenge  to  Lucius  Ahenobarbus, 
who  stood,  half  delighted,  half  afraid,  shivering  and  laughing 
spasmodically,  as  he  surveyed  the  struggle  from  a  safe  dis- 
tance.   "Come,  you,  and  have  your  share  in  the  villanyl" 

And  again,  for  it  was  all  the  affair  of  the  veriest  moment, 
the  slaves  rushed  once  more  on  their  indocile  victim.  "  Free- 
dom to  the  man  who  pulls  him  down!"  was  the  incentive  of 
Ahenobarbus. 

But  again  Drusus,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  had  to  contend  with 
only  the  flabby,  soft-handed,  unskilful  underlings  of  Lucius, 
struck  out  so  furiously  that  another  of  his  attackers  fell  back- 
ward with  a  groan  and  a  gasp.  All  this  Cornelia  saw  while, 
sword  in  hand,  she  flew  toward  the  knot  of  writhing  men. 
She  pushed  aside  the  slaves  by  sheer  force.  She  asked  no 
civilities,  received  none. 

"Pull  her  away!"  shouted  Lucius,  and  started  himself  to 
accomplish  his  purpose.  A  rude  hand  smote  her  in  the  face; 
she  staggered,  fell;  but  as  she  fell  a  hand  snatched  the  sword 
out  of  her  grasp.     Sb'^  released  her  hold  gladly,  for  did  she 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BAI^ 


267 


not  know  that  hand?  When  she  rose  to  her  feet  there  were 
shrieks  of  fear  and  pain  on  every  side.  The  slaves  were 
cringing  in  dread  before  him.  Drusus  was  standing  under  the 
Athena,  with  the  keen  steel  in  his  hand  — its  blade  dyed 
crimson;  and  at  his  feet  lay  Ahenobarbus's  favourite  valet  — 
the  wretch  literally  disembowelled  by  one  deadly  stroke. 

"Fly,  fly!"  she  implored;  "they  will  bring  arms!  They 
will  never  let  you  escape." 

"I'll  pay  you  for  letting  him  kill  Croesus,"  howled  Lucius, 
facing  himself  resolutely  toward  his  enemy.  "How  can  he 
fly  when  the  house  is  full  of  servants,  and  his  boat  is  away 
from  the  landing?  You  give  yourself  trouble  for  no  purpose, 
my  lady!  Lentulus's  people  will  be  here  with  swords  in  a 
moment!" 

But  as  he  spoke  a  blow  of  some  unseen  giant  dashed  him 
prostrate,  and  upon  the  terrace  from  below  came  Cappadox, 
foaming  with  anxious  rage,  his  brow  blacker  than  night,  his 
brawny  arms  swinging  a  heavy  paddle  with  which  he  clubbed 
the  cowering  slaves  right  and  left. 

"Have  they  killed  him!  Have  the  gods  spared  him!" 
These  two  demands  came  bounding  in  a  breath  from  the 
honest  servant's  lips.  And  when  he  saw  Drusus,  bleeding, 
but  still  standing,  he  rushed  forward  to  fling  his  arms  about 
his  master's  neck. 

"Fly!  fly! »  urged  Cornelia,  and  out  of  the  building,  armed 
now  with  swords  and  staves,  came  flocking  the  freedmen  of 
the  house  and  as  many  slaves  as  they  could  muster. 

"Salve!  carissima,"  and  Drusus,  who  never  at  the  instant 
gave  thought  to  the  blood  all  over  him,  pressed  her  in  one 
last  kiss.  He  gained  the  terrace  steps  by  a  single  bound 
ahead  of  his  armed  attackers.  Cappadox  smote  down  the 
foremost  freedman  with  a  buffet  of  the  oar.    AhenobarbuB 


iLi 


258 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


Btaggered  to  his  feet  as  Drusus  sprang  over  him,  and  the  lat- 
ter tore  a  packet  of  tablets  from  his  hand,  never  stopping  in 
his  own  flight. 

Then  down  on  to  the  little  landing-place  pursuers  and  pur- 
sued tumbled.  The  large  six-oared  boat  of  Ahenobarbus  was 
moored  close  beside  Cappadox's  skiff. 

Drusus  was  into  the  skiff  and  casting  loose  before  Lucius 
could  descend  from  the  upper  terrace.  The  young  Domitian 
was  in  a  terrible  distress. 

"  The  letters !  The  letters !  Freedom  to  you  all  if  you  save 
them  I    Cast  off!    Chase!    Sink  the  skiff ! » 

But  before  any  of  the  unskilful  assailants  could  execute  the 
order,  Cappadox  had  driven  the  butt  of  his  paddle  clean  through 
the  bottom  planking  of  the  larger  boat,  and  she  was  filling 
rapidly.  The  paddle  shivered,  but  it  was  madness  to  embark 
on  the  stoven  craft. 

The  skiff  shot  away  from  the  landing  as  though  an  intelli- 
gent soul,  rising  equal  to  the  needs  of  the  crisis.  The  blue 
dancing  water  lapped  between  her  gunwale  and  the  shore. 
Drusus  stood  erect  in  the  boat,  brushed  back  the  blood  that 
was  still  streaming  over  his  eyes,  and  looked  landward.  The 
slaves  and  freedmen  were  still  on  the  landing,  gazing  blankly 
after  their  escaped  prey.  Ahenobarbus  was  pouring  out  upon 
their  inefficiency  a  torrent  of  wrathful  malediction,  that  prom- 
i-ed  employmeu!  for  the  "whipper"  for  some  time  to  come. 
But  Dru8U3  gave  heed  to  none  of  these  things.  Standing  on 
the  upper  terrace,  her  hair  now  dishevelled  aud  blowing  in 
tresses  upon  the  wind,  was  Cornelia,  and  ou  her  all  her 
lover's  gaze  was  fixed. 

"Safe?"   and  the  melodious  shout  drifted  out  over  the 
widening  stretch  of  water. 
"Safe!  to  live  and  to  love!"    And  Drusus  thought,  with 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BAIJE 


259 


his  keen  lover's  eye,  he  could  see  the  dimming  face  brighten, 
and  the  hands  go  up  in  a  gesture  of  thanksgiving. 

It  was  all  that  was  said.  Another  boat  might  be  procured 
at  any  time  by  Lucius  Ahenobarbus;  and  with  only  one  paddle 
Cappadox  could  make  but  slow  headway.  Stiff  and  bruised, 
the  young  man  flung  himself  on  the  bottom  of  the  skiff,  and 
panted  and  nursed  himself  after  his  mortal  struggle.  Now 
that  the  combat  was  over  he  felt  weak  and  sore  enough,  and 
was  quite  content  to  let  Cappadox  adjust  such  improvised 
bandages  as  were  available,  and  scull  him  toward  Futeoli. 
Fortunately  none  of  the  bruises  was  caused  by  any  harder 
weapons  than  fists,  and,  though  his  body  was  black  and  blue, 
he  had  sustained  no  serious  hurt.  And  so  he  rested  his  head 
on  a  wrap,  and  closed  his  eyes,  and  called  up  before  his  mind 
the  vision  of  Cornelia.  How  beautiful  she  had  been  when  he 
met  her  I  How  much  more  beautiful  when  she  thrust  her  way 
through  the  fighting  slaves  and  put  the  sword  in  his  hand,  at 
that  moment  of  mortal  combat,  which  he  expected  to  be  his 
last!  Did  he  only  love  her  because  her  face  was  sweet,  her 
voice  was  sweet,  and  the  touch  of  her  hair  was  sweet?  Happy 
was  he,  her  lover;  — he  could  say  "no,"  and  have  never  a  fear 
that  his  sincerity  would  be  tested.  And  Lucius  Ahenobarbus? 
He  hated  him  with  a  perfec'.  hatred.  A  Roman  who  was  no 
Roman!  A  womanish  man  whom  every  true  woman  must 
despise !  A  serpent  who  had  not  even  the  bright  scales  of  a 
serpent!  What  "Would  he  do  to  Cornelia?  Drusus's  face  grew 
hard.  Had  he,  Drusus,  yet  done  any  injury  worth  mentioning 
to  his  enemy?  Why  had  he  not  used  the  moment  when  Lucius 
lay  prostrate,  and  run  the  sword  through  his  body?  Ill-timed, 
thoughtless  mercy!  But  the  letters,  the  packet  he  had 
wrenched  from  Ahenobarbus's  hand?  Why  was  it  so  precious? 
Drusus  had  flung  it  into  the  boat.     He  took  up  the  packet 


m 


260 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


! 


i 


Doubtless  some  billet-doux.  Why  should  he  degrade  his  mind 
by  giving  an  instant's  thought  to  any  of  his  enemy's  foul 
intrigues?  He  could  only  open  his  eyes  with  difficulty,  but  a 
curiosity  that  did  not  add  to  hi  self-esteem  overmasterei.  liim. 
The  seall  Could  he  believe  his  senses  — the  imprint  of  three 
trophies  of  victory?  It  was  the  seal  of  PompeiusI  The 
instinct  of  the  partisan  and  [>olitician  conquered  every  in- 
firmity. He  broke  the  wax,  untied  the  thread,  and  opened. 
The  letters  were  in  cipher,  and  at  first  sight  illegible. 
But  this  did  not  present  any  insup-^rable  difficulty.  Most 
classic  ciphers  wore  sufficiently  simple  to  be  solved  without 
very  much  trouble.  Drusus  knew  that  in  all  Ctesar's  corre- 
spondence a  cipher  had  been  used  which  consisted  merely  of 
substituting  for  each  letter  the  fourth  letter  beyond  it,  as 
D  for  A;  and  a  little  examination  showed  that  the  present 
cryptogram  was  made  on  the  same  rude  method.  After  a  few 
guesses  he  struck  the  proper  substitutions,  and  was  able  to 
read. 

"  Pompeius  Magnus,  Imperator,  to  the  most  excellent  Lucius 
Domitius  Ahenobarbus,  Rome,  tenth  day  before  the  Calends  of 
January.     If  it  is  well  %\  ith  you,   it  is  well;  I  am  well.*    I 
write  to  warn  you  that  we  are  told  that  Quintus  Drusus,  your 
personal  enemy  and  the  friend  of  our  own  foes,  is  in  Cam- 
pania.    We  need  not  add  more,  for  we  trust  to  you  to  see  to 
it  that  he  stirs  up  no  faction  in  favour  of  his  master  in  those 
parts.     Be  assured  that  you  will  not  be  long  troubled  by  this 
enemy.     He  is  marked  out  as  one  of  the  earliest  of  those  to 
pay  with  their  lives  for  their  conspiracy  against  the  Republic. 
If  possible  see  that  Drusus  is  seized  for  some  alleged  offence, 
and  lodged  in  prison  until  the  neT^-  consuls  come  into  office. 
After  that  time  he  can  work  little  or  no  'u=jcliief.     Use  the 

*  Si  vah$  bene  e$t  ego  vakn,  written  commonly  inniyly  8.  V.  B.  E.  B.  V. 


1^ 


WHAT  BEFELL  AT  BAI^ 

uttermost  endeavours  in     his  matter;   check    him  and 


261 

his 

schemes  a-  all  hazards.  1  trust  your  energy  and  prudence, 
which  your  father  and  Lentulus  Crus  assure  me  will  not  fail 
Vale  I" 

Drusus  lay  back  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  looked  up 
into  the  blue  dome.  It  was  the  same  azure  as  ever,  but  a 
strange  feeling  of  disenchantment  seemed  to  have  come  over 
him.  For  the  first  time  he  realized  the  deadly  stakes  for  which 
he  and  his  party  were  playing  their  game.  WhjA  fate  had 
been  treasured  up  for  him  in  the  impending  chaos  of  civil 
war?  If  he  perished  in  battle  or  by  the  executioner's  axe, 
what  awaited  Cornelia?  But  he  had  chosen  his  road;  he 
would  follow  it  to  the  end.  The  battle  spirit  mounted  in 
him. 

The  sky  was  darkening  when  the  boat  drew  up  to  one  of  the 
busy  quays  of  Puteoli.  Stars  had  begun  to  twinkle.  Cappa- 
dox  aided  his  bruised  and  stifEened  master  to  disembark. 

"To-night  rest,"  cried  Drusus,  forgetting  all  his  wounds. 
"To-morrow  away  to  Rome.  And  at  Rome  — the  war  of  the 
Gods  and  the  Giants  I " 


if 


MICROCOPY   RKOLUTION   TiST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


■  2.5 

1^ 

^  L£ 

■  2^ 

^     /APPLIED  IIVHGE     Ir 


1653  East   Main  Street 

Rochtster.  New  York       14609      USA 

(716)  482  -  0300-  Phone 

(716)   288-5989  -  Fo« 


r 


If 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  NEW  CONSULS 


I* 

11: 


It  had  come  —  the  great  crisis  that  by  crooked  ways  or 
straight  was  to  set  right  all  the  follies  and  crimes  of  many  a 
generation.  On  the  Calends  of  January  Lentulus  Crus  and 
Caius  Clodius  Marcellus  were  inaugurated  consuls.  In  solemn 
procession  with  Senate,  priesthoods,  and  people,  they  had  gone 
up  to  the  Capitol  and  sacrificed  chosen  white  steers  to  Jupiter, 
"Best  and  Greatest,"'  and  invoked  his  blessing  upon  the 
Roman  State.  And  so  began  the  last  consulship  of  the  Free 
Kepublic. 

Rom'^  was  in  a  ferment.  All  knew  the  intention  of  the 
consuls  to  move  the  recall  of  Caesar  from  his  government. 
All  knew  that  Curio  had  brought  a  letter  from  Ravenna,  the 
contents  whereof  he  carefully  guarded.  That  same  afternoon 
the  consuls  convened  the  Senate  in  the  Temple  of  Capitoline 
Jove,  and  every  man  knew  to  what  purpose.  All  Rome  swept 
in  the  direction  of  the  Capitol.  Drusus  accompanied  his 
friend,  the  tribune  Antonius,  as  the  latter's  viator,  for  there 
was  need  of  a  trusty  guard. 

The  excitement  in  the  streets  ran  even  higher  than  when 
Catilina's  great  plot  was  exposed.     The  streets  were  jammed 

»  Optimun  maxtmxu. 
263 


THE  NEW  CONSULS 


263 


with  crowds,  —  not  of  the  idle  and  base  born,  but  of  equites  and 
noble  ladies,  and  young  patricians  not  old  enough  to  step  into 
their  fathers'  places.  They  were  howling  and  cheering  for 
Pompeius  and  Lentulus,  and  cursing  the  absent  proconsul. 
As  Drusus  passed  along  at  the  side  of  Antonius,  he  could  not 
fail  to  hear  the  execrations  and  vile  epithets  flung  from  every 
side  at  him  and  his  friend.  He  had  always  supposed  the 
masses  were  on  Caesa^^'s  side,  but  now  every  man's  hand 
seemed  turned  against  the  conqueror  of  the  Gauls.  Was  there 
to  be  but  a  repetition  of  the  same  old  tragedy  of  the  Gracchi 
and  of  Marcus  Drusus?  A  brave  man  standing  out  for  the 
people,  and  the  people  deserting  him  in  his  hour  of  need? 

They  reached  the  Temple.     Tlie  Senate  was  already  nearly 
ready  for  business;  every  toothless  consular  who  had  been  in 
public  service  for  perquisites  only,  and  who  for  years  had 
been  wasting  his  life  enjoying  the  pickings  of  an  unfortunate 
province  — all  such  were  in  their  seats  on  the  front  row  of 
benches.     Behind  them  were  the  pnetorii  and  the  cedilicii,^  a 
full  session  of  that  great  body  which  had  matched  its  tireless 
wisdom  and  tenacity  against  Pyrrhus,  Hannibal,  and  Antio- 
chus  the  Great,  and  been  victorious.     Drusus  ran  his  eye  over 
the  seats.     There  they  sat,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  general 
excitement,    a  body   of   calm,    dignified   elders,    severe    and 
immaculate  in  their  long  white  togas  and  purple-edged  tunics. 
The  multitudes  without  were  howling  and  jeering;  within  the 
temple,  reigned  silence  — the  silence  that  gathered  about  the 
most  august  and  powerful  assembly  the  world  has  ever  seen. 
The  Temple  was  built  of  cool,  grey  stone;  the  assembly  hall 
was  quite  apart  from  the  shrine.     The  Senate  had  convened 
in  a  spacious  semicircular  vaulted  chamber,  cut  off  from  the 
vulgar  world  by  a  row  of  close,  low  Doric  columns.    From 

^  Ex-pnetora  and  ex-aedllet. 


S  !■ 


i  .< 


f 


i 


Hi' 


I 


Si 


264 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


the  shade  of  these  pillars  one  jould  command  a  sweeping  view 
of  the  Forum,  packed  with  a  turbulent  multitude.  Drusus 
stood  on  the  Temple  steps  and  looked  out  and  in.  With- 
out, confusion;  within,  order;  without,  a  leaderless  mob; 
within,  an  assembly  almost  every  member  of  which  had  been 
invested  with  some  high  command.  For  a  moment  the  young 
man  revived  courage;  after  all,  the  Roman  Senate  was  left  as 
a  bulwark  against  passion  and  popular  wrath;  and  for  the 
time  being,  as  he  looked  on  those  motionless,  venerable  faces, 
his  confidence  in  this  court  of  final  apj  sal  was  restored.  Then 
he  began  to  scan  the  features  of  the  consulars,  and  his  heart 
sank.  There  was  Lucius  Calpurnius  Piso,  with  the  \risage  of 
a  philosopher,  b'^t  within  mere  moral  turpitude.  There  was 
Favonius;  there  were  the  two  sanguinary  Marcelli,  consuls 
respectively  for  the  two  preceding  years;  there  was  Domi- 
tius;  there  was  Cato,  his  hard  face  illumined  doubtless  by 
the  near  realization  of  unholy  hopes ;  there  was  Faustus  Sulla, 
another  bitter  oligarch.  Drusus  saw  them  all,  and  knew  that 
the  Cassarian  cause  had  been  doomed  without  a  hearing.  Caius 
Marcellus,  the  new  consul,  sat  in  his  separate  seat,  in  all  the 
splendid  dignity  of  his  embroidered  toga.  Around  him  stood 
his  twelve  lictors.  But  Lentulus,  at  whose  behest  the  Senate 
had  been  convened,  and  who  was  to  act  as  its  president,  had 
not  come.  Drusus  followed  Antonius  over  to  th-*  farther  side 
of  the  house,  where  on  a  long,  low  bench  *  the  other  tribunes 
of  the  plebs  were  seated.  Quintus  Cassius  was  already  there. 
The  other  tribunes  darted  angry  glances  at  their  newly  arrived 
colleague.  Drusus  remained  standing  behind  Antonius,  ready 
to  act  as  a  body-guard,  as  much  as  to  serve  in  mere  Icial 
capacity.  Even  as  they  entered  he  had  noticed  a  bu  ^  and 
rustle  pass  along  the  tiers  of  seats,  and  whisper  pass  on 

1  SubHllium. 


THE  NEW  CONSULS 


265 


whisper,  "  There  come  the  Caesarians !  "  "  What  treason  is  in 
that  letter!"  "We  must  have  an  end  of  their  impudence!" 
And  Drusus  ran  his  eye  over  the  whole  company,  and  sought 
for  one  friendly  look ;  but  he  met  with  only  stony  glances  or 
dark  frowns.  There  was  justice  neither  in  the  people  nor  in 
the  Senate.  Their  hearts  were  drunk  with  a  sense  of  revenge 
and  self-willed  passion;  and  Justice  literally  weighed  out  her 
bounty  with  blinded  eyes. 

There  was  another  hum  and  rustle.  And  into  the  hall 
swept  Lentulus  Crus,  in  robes  of  office,  with  Scipio,  the 
father-in-law  of  Pompeius,  at  his  side.  Before  him  strode 
his  twelve  lictors  bearing  their  fasces  erect.  Not  a  word  was 
spoken  while  Lentulus  Crus  seated  himself  in  the  ivory  curule 
chair  of  office.  No  sign  marked  the  extreme  gravity  of  the 
occasion. 

"  Let  the  sacred  chickens  be  brought, "  said  Lentulus. 

Never  a  lip  twitched  or  curled  in  all  that  august  multitude 
while  several  public  attendants  brought  in  a  wooden  cage 
containing  three  or  four  rather  skinny  specimens  of  poultry. 
Not  even  Drusus  saw  anything  really  ridiculous  when  Len- 
tulus arose,  took  grain  from  an  attendant,  and  scattered  a 
quantity  of  it  before  the  coop.  Close  at  his  elbow  stood  the 
augur,  to  interpret  the  omen,  —  a  weazened,  bald-headed  old 
senator,  who  wore  a  purple-striped  tunic,  ^  and  carried  in  his 
hand  a  long  stick,'  curved  at  its  head  into  a  spiral.  Drusus 
knew  perfectly  well  that  the  fowls  had  been  kept  without 
food  all  that  day;  but  it  would  have  seemed  treason  to  all 
the  traditions  of  his  native  land  to  cry  out  against  this  pom- 
pous farce.  The  hungry  chickens  pecked  up  the  grain.  The 
augur  muttered  formula  after  formula,  and  Lentrlus  took 
pains  to  repeat  the  meaningless  jargon  after  him.     Presently 


f'l 


'1  »L 


n 

U 


»  Trabea. 


>  Lituwi. 


266 


A   FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


11 

'til 


the  augur  ceased  his  chatter  and  nodded  to  the  consul.     Len- 
tulus  turned  toward  the  Senate. 

"There  is  no  evil  sight  or  sound!  "  ^  was  his  announcement, 
meaning  that  business  couhl  be  transacted. 

Whereupon  up  from  his  seat  sprang  Marcus  Antonius,  flour- 
ishing in  his  hand  a  packet.  Loudly  Lentulus  bade  him  hold 
his  peace;  loudly  the  tribunes  who  sided  with  the  Senate  party 
forbade  him  to  read.  But  a  rustle  and  stir  of  eager  curiosity 
ran  along  all  the  benches,  and  first  one  voice,  then  many,  cried 
out  that  the  letter  must  be  made  public.  "With  very  ill  grace 
the  consul  declared  that  Antonius  should  be  allowed  to  read 
the  communication  from  Caesar. 

Antonius  read,  and  all  were  astonished  at  the  moderation  of 
the  much-maligned  proconsul.  Caesar  made  it  nlear  that  he 
would  stand  on  his  rights  as  to  the  second  consulship;  but 
to  withdraw  possibilities  of  seeming  to  issue  a  threat,  he 
would  disband  his  entire  array  if  Pompeius  would  only  do  the 
same,  or,  if  preferred,  he  would  retain  simply  Cisalpine  Gaul 
and  Illyria  with  two  legions,  until  the  consular  elections  were 
ever.  In  either  ev  .t  it  would  be  out  of  his  power  to  menace 
the  constitution,  and  the  public  tranquillity  would  remain 
quite  undisturbed. 

But  before  the  murmur  of  approbation  at  this  unexpected 
docility  wore  away,  Lentulus  burst  forth  into  a  fiery  invective. 
All  knew  why  the  Senate  had  been  convened,  nor  would  he 
allow  a  few  smooth  promises  to  bring  the  state  into  danger. 
The  law  provided  that  a  proconsul  should  leave  his  province 
at  a  certain  time;  and  if  Caesar  thought  that  a  special  law 
exempted  him  from  this  requirement,  it  were  well  he  were 
disabused  of  the  notion.  The  Senate  had  been  convened 
because  the  presiding  consul  felt  that  the  continuance  of 

'  Silentiutn  esse  videtur. 


THE  NEW  CONSULS 


267 


Caesar  in  his  governorship  was  a  menace  to  the  safety  of  the 
Republic.  Let  the  Conscript  Fathers  express  themselves 
boldly,  and  he,  Lentulus,  would  not  desert  them;  let  them 
waver  and  try  to  court  the  favour  of  Caesar  as  in  former 
times,  and  the  consul  would  have  to  lock  to  his  own  safety 
—  and  he  could  make  his  own  terms  with  Caesar. 

Lentulus  had  started  out  with  studied  moderation.  His 
harangue  ended  with  a  stinging  menace.  A  low  mutter,  diffi- 
cult to  interpret,  ran  through  the  Senate.  Again  Antonius 
leaped  to  his  feet. 

"  Conscript  Fathers,  will  you  not  consider  the  mild  offers  of 
Caesar?    Do  not  reject  them  without  debate." 

"I  ask  the  opinion  of  the  Senate  on  my  own  proposition," 
broke  in  Lentulus.  "Metellus  Scipio,  declare  what  is  your 
judgment." 

"  I  protest  at  this  unseemly  haste,"  crieu  Antonius;  "lev  us 
consider  the  letter  first! " 

"  And  I  protest  against  this  boisterous  and  unlawful  interrup- 
tion," retorted  the  consul,  fiercely.    "Rise,  Metellus  Scipio!" 

Antonius  flushed  with  rage,  but  sank  into  his  seat.  Drusus 
leaned  over  his  friend's  shoulder  and  whisperp''  "  Veto. "  Anto- 
nius shook  his  head. 

"  They  must  speak.  We  should  be  foolish  to  shoot  away  our 
best  arrow  before  tlie  battle  had  really  begun." 

Scipio  arose.  He  was  not  the  "chief  senator,"*  usually 
entitled  to  speak  first;  but  everybody  knew  that  his  words 
were  the  mere  expressions  of  his  son-in-law,  the  mighty  Pom- 
peius.  His  oratory  and  physical  presence  were  wretched, 
but  all  the  Senate  hung  upon  his  words. 

"  Pompeius  did  not  intend  to  abandon  the  Republic,  if  the 
Senate  would  support  him ;  but  let  them  act  with  energy-  foj 

1  PnncepB  aenatiu. 


U 

^ 


1  ■{ 


;s  .■< 


KMii 


268 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


otherwise  in  the  future  they  might  need  his  aid  never  so  much, 
and  yet  implore  it  in  vain." 

"  You  want  to  destroy  the  Republic ! »  cried  Quintus  Cassius, 
half  leaping  from  his  seat. 
"We  want  to  destroy  you!"  retorted  Domitius,  savagely. 
But  all  men  were  not  so  blinded  by  fury,  hate,  and  greed 
of  power  and  revenge.     To  the  dismay  of  his  party  Caius 
Marcellus,  the  second  consul,  counselled  a  certain  kind  of 
moderation.     There  was  no  love  lost  by  the  noble  "Opti- 
mates"  upon  Pompeius,  and  Marcellus  hinted  this  plainly 
when  he  said  that  all  Italy  must  be  put  under  arms,  and  with 
8uch  an  army  at  the  disposal  of  the  Senate,  it  could  act  as  it 
saw  fit, —to  get  rid  of  a  troublesome  protector,  he  implied, 
no  less  than  an  open  enemy.     And  close  after  him  followed 
Marcus  Calidius  and  Marcus  Rufus,  two  senators,  who  had  at 
least  the  sagacity  to  perceive  that  it  would  not  free  the  Com- 
monwealth to  crush  Caesar,  by  flinging  themselves  into  the 
arms  of  Pompeius.     "Let  Pompeius  go  off  to  his  Spanish 
province,  to  which  he  was  accredited  proconsul;  it  was  but 
natural  Caesar  should  think  himself  ill  treated,  seeing  that 
two  legions  had  been  taken  from  him  for  Eastern  service,  and 
Pompeius  was  keeping  these  very  troops  close  to  Rome." 

For  one  moment  it  seemed  to  Drusus  that  wisdom  and  jus- 
tice had  not  deserted  the  Senate  of  his  native  state.  The 
consuls  were  divided;  two  influential  men  were  counselling 
moderation.  Surely  the  Senate  would  not  push  to  extremi- 
ties. But  he  had  not  reckoned  on  the  spell  which  the  malevo- 
lent spirit  of  Lentulus  had  cast  over  the  assembly.  In  bitter 
words  the  presiding  consul  refused  to  put  Calidius's  proposal 
to  a  vote,  and  then,  turning  directly  upon  his  colleague  before 
the  face  of  the  whole  multitude,  he  poured  out  reproof  and 
vituperation.     Marcellus  turned  red  and  then  black  in  the 


THE  J,EW  CONSULS  269 

face  with  rage.  Dnisus's  heart  was  beating  rapidly  with 
hope.  So  long  as  the  consuls  were  at  enmity,  little  would 
be  done!  Suddenly  Scipio  started  as  if  to  leave  the  assembly. 
"He's  going  to  call  in  Pompeius's  cohorts!"  belched  Len- 
tulus.  Marcellus  turned  pale.  Drusus  saw  Calidius's  friends 
whispering  with  him,  evidently  warning  and  remonstrating. 
Senators  cast  uneasy  glances  toward  the  doorways,  as  if 
expecting  to  see  a  century  of  legionaries  march  in  to  enforce 
the  decrees  of  Pompeius's  spokesmen.  Marcellus  staggered 
to  his  feet.  He  was  cowed,  and  evidently  felt  himself  in 
personal  danger. 

"Conscript  Fathers,"  he  stammered,  "I-I  withdraw  my 
motion  to  delay  action  for  considering  the  recall  of 
Caesar." 

"You  have  done  well!"  shouted  Lentulus,  triumphing 
savagely.  Scipio  ostentatiously  settled  back  on  his  seat, 
while  Cato  called  with  waruing,  yet  exultation:  — 

"Take  care  what  you  do.     Caesar  is  the  only  sober  m  n 
a-iong  all  those  engaged  in  the  plot  to  overturn  the  govern- 
t.     Eemember  with  whom  you  must  deal,  and  act!" 

then  Scipio  arose  once  more.     Every  one  knew  that  his 
-at  was  law.     "Conscript  Fathers,"  he  began,  "Marcus  Cato 
speaks  well.     Consider  the  power  of  Caesar.     He  has  trained 
up  bands  of  gladiators  whom  his  friends,  both  senators  and 
Knights,  are  drilling  for  him.     He  is  doubling  his  soldiers' 
pay,  giving  them  extra  corn,  slaves,  attendants,  and  land 
grants.     A  great  part  of  the  Senate,  -yes,  Cicero  even,  they 
say,  —owes  him  money,  at  low  and  favourable  rates  of  inter- 
est; he  has  actually  made  presents  to  freedmen  and  influential 
slaves.     All  young  prodigals  in  debt  are  in  his  pay.     He  has 
made  presents  to  win  the  favour  of  cities  and  princes,  or  been 
lending  them  troops  without  vote  of  the  Senate.     In  Italy 


■I 


n. 


i\ 


270 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


Gaul,  and  Spain,  —  yes,  in  Greece,  too,  and  Asia,  he  is  win- 
ning the  good- will  of  communities  by  erecting  splendid  public 
building's.  So  great  is  his  present  power!  What  he  will  do 
in  a  second  consulship  I  dare  not  say.  I  dare  not  assign 
bounds  to  his  ambition.  Conscript  Fathers,  shall  we  vote 
ourselves  freemen  or  slaves?  What  more  can  I  add  to  the 
words  of  the  consul?  I  vote  to  ratify  the  proposition  of 
Lucius  Lentulus,  that  Caesar  either  flisband  his  army  on  a 
fixed  day,  or  be  declared  a  public  enemy ! " 

"And  what  is  your  opinion,  Lucius  Domitius?"  demanded 
Lentulus,  while  never  a  voice  was  raised  to  oppose  Scipio. 

"  Let  the  Senate  remember. "  replied  Domitius,  "  that  Caesar 
will  justify  the  meaning  of  his  name  —  the  *  hard-hitter,'  and 
let  us  strike  the  first  and  telling  blow." 

A  ripple  of  applause  swept  down  the  Senate.  The  anti- 
Caesarians  had  completely  recovered  from  their  first  discom- 
fiture, and  were  carrying  all  sentiment  before  them.  Already 
there  were  cries  of  "A  vote!  a  vote!  Divide  the  Senate? 
A  vote!" 

"  Conscript  Fathers,"  said  Lentulus,  "  in  days  of  gr«..  emer- 
gency like  this,  when  your  minds  seem  so  happily  united  in 
favour  of  doing  that  which  is  for  the  manifest  safety  of  the 
Republic,  I  will  not  ask  for  the  opinions  of  each  senator  in 
turn.  Let  the  Senate  divide ;  let  all  who  favour  the  recall  of 
the  proconsul  of  the  Gauls  pass  to  the  right,  those  against  to 
the  left.  And  so  may  it  be  well  and  prosperous  for  the 
Commonwealth. " 

But  Antonius  was  again  on  his  feet ;  and  at  his  side  stood 
Quintus  Cassius. 

"Lucius  Lentulus,"  he  thundered,  "I  forbid  the  division. 
Veto!" 

"  Veto  I "  shouted  Cassius. 


THE  NEW  CONSULS 


271 


Domitius,  too,  had  risen.  "Conscript  Fathers,  let  the  con- 
suls remonstrate  with  the  tribunes  to  withdraw  their  pro- 
hibition. And,  i^  they  do  not  succeed,  let  them  lay  before 
the  Senate  that  order  which  is  the  safeguard  of  the 
Republic." 

Everybody  knew  what  Domitius  meant.     If  Antonius  would 
not  give  way,  martial  law  was  to  be  declared.    Hot  and  furious 
raged  the  debate.     More  and  more  passionate  the  expressions 
of  i)arty  hatred.    More  and  more  menacing  the  gestures  directed 
upon  the  two  Caesarian  tribunes.    But  even  the  impetuous  fierce- 
ness of  Lentulus,  Cato,  Scipio,  and  Domitius  combined  could 
not  drive  the  browbeaten  Senate  to  cast  loose  from  its  last 
mooring  that  night.      Domitius's  measure  went  over.     It  was 
lato  —  the  stars  were  shining  outside.    Lamps  had  been  brought 
in,  and  threw  their  ruddy  glare  over  the  long  tiers  of  seats  and 
their  august  occupants.     Finally  the  angry  debate  ended,  be- 
cause it  wa.  a  physical  impossibility  to  continue  longer.    Sen- 
ators went  away  with  dark  frowns  or  care-knit  foreheads. 
Out  i    '^he  Forum  bands  of  young  "  Optimates  "  were  shouting 
for  I      xpeius,  and  cursing  Caesar  and  his  followers.     Drusus, 
following  Antonius,  felt  that  he  was  the  adherent  of  a  lost 
cause,  the  member  of  a  routed  army  tliat  was  defending  its 
last  stronghold,  which  overwhelming  numbers  must  take,  be 
the  defence  never  so  valiant.     And  when  very  late  he  lay  down 
on  his  bed  that  night,  the  howls  of  the  fashionable  mob  were 
still  ringing  in  his  ears. 


fp 


II 

That  night  the  mo?t  old-fashioned  and  sober  Roman  went 
to  bed  at  an  advanced  .lOur.  Men  were  gathered  in  little  knots 
along  the  streets,  in  the  forums,  in  the  porticos  and  basilicas, 
arguing,  gesticulating,  wrangling.    Military  tribunes  and  cen- 


272 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


turions  in  armour  of  Pompeius's  legions  were  parading  on  the 
comitium.^  Veterans  of  that  leader  were  jostling  about  in  the 
crowd,  clanking  their  newly  furbished  armour  and  shouting 
for  their  old  general.  If  a  man  spoke  for  Caesar,  a  crowd  of 
bystanders  was  ready  to  hoot  him  down.  Staid  householders 
locked  up  their  dwellings  and  stationed  trusty  slaves  at  the 
doors  to  see  that  the  crowds  did  not  take  to  riot  and  pillage. 
The  sailors  from  the  wharves  had  been  drinking  heavily  in  all 
the  taverns,  and  now  roved  up  and  down  the  crowded  streets, 
seeking  opportunity  for  brawls.  Thieves  and  cutpurses  were 
plying  their  most  successful  work;  but  no  oiRcials  had  time  to 
irect  the  efforts  of  the  harassed  and  slender  police  corps.  To 
Pompeius's  palace,  without  the  gates,  every  man  whose  voice  or 
vote  seemed  worth  the  winning  had  been  summoned.  All  the 
senators  had  streamed  out  thither;  and  there  the  Magnus  had 
brought  them  under  the  spell  of  his  martial  authority  and  made 
them  as  wax  in  his  hand.  And  all  "  that  majesty  that  doth 
hedge  9,bout  a  king,"  or  about  a  victorious  general,  exerted  its 
full  influence.  The  senators  came  into  the  palace  of  Pompeius 
as  into  the  palace  of  their  despot.  He  stood  before  them  in  his 
largest  hall,  wearing  the  embroidered  robe  of  a  triumphator, 
with  the  laurel  crown  of  his  victories  upon  his  head.  At  his 
right  hand,  as  first  vizir  of  his  state,  stood  Lentulus  Crus; 
at  his  left  Lucius  Domitius.  The  senators  came  to  him  and 
bowed  low,  and  sai.l  their  "Aves"  and  ^'Salves"  as  though 
cringing  before  ithridates  or  Tigranes  of  the  East;  and 

Pompeius,  by  the  cordiality  or  coolness  of  his  response,  indi- 
cated which  of  his  vassals  had  or  had  not  fallen  under  his 
disfavour. 

Yes,  despotism  had  come  at  last  for  Rome.     The  oligarchy 
had  by  its  corrupt  incapacity  made  a  tyranny  inevita  ble.     They 

1  Aasembly-place  in  the  Forum  Somauum. 


THE  NEW  CONSULS 


273 


could  make  choice  of  masters,  but  a  master  they  muet  have. 
Many  were  the  proud  Fabii,  Claudii,  and  Valerii  present  that 
night  —  men  whose  lines  of  curule  ancestors  were  as  long  as  the 
duration  of  the  Republic  —  who  ground  their  teeth  with  shame 
and  inward  rage  the  very  moment  they  -  .ed,  "  Salve,  Atagne!" 
Yet  the  recipient  of  all  this  adulation  -:.  in  no  enviable  frame 
of  mind.  He  looked  harassed  and  wea.^ ,  despite  the  splendour 
of  his  dress  and  ci-own.  And  many  were  the  whispered  conver 
sations  that  passed  between  him  and  his  ministers,  or  rather 
custodians,  Lenti  Vis  and  Domitius. 

"Ah!  poor  Juiia,"  sighed  Pompeius,  whose  mind  ever 
reverted  to  his  dead  wife,  "what  misery  would  have  been 
yours  if  you  had  seen  tliis  day.  Poor  Julia;  how  I  loved  her; 
and  Caesar,  her  father,  loved  her  too;  and  now  —  " 

"Be  yourself,  Magnus,"  expostulated  the  consul  at  his  side; 
"remember  that  for  the  good  of  the  Republic  every  personal 
affection  is  to  be  put  away.  Recall  Brutus,  who  put  his  own 
sons  to  death  because  they  committed  treason.  Remember  what 
Scipio  ^milianus  said  when  he  It  -ned  that "  ,'rius  Gracchus, 
his  dear  brother-in-law,  had  been  put  to  death  •  sedition.  He 
quoted  Homer's  line :  — 

"  'So  perish  all  -...t  do  the  li  •;  ^gaial' " 

"And  must  I  trample  down  every  tie,  every  affection?  "  com- 
plained wretched  Pompeius,  who  never  ceased  hoping  against 
hope  that  something  would  avert  the  catastrophe. 

"There  is  no  tie,  no  affection,  Magnus,"  said  Domitius, 
sternly,  "  that  binds  you  to  Caesar.  Cast  his  friendship  from 
your  breast  as  you  would  a  viper.  Think  only  of  being  justly 
hailed  with  Romulus,  Camillas,  and  Marius  as  the  fourth 
founder  of  Rome.     Strike,  and  win  immortal  glory." 

Anil  so  to  the  last  hour  these  coafederates  wrought  upon 


:"i 


\h 


•;r 


274 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAE 


'  .-1 

I 


their  supple  instrument,  and  bent  him  to  their  will;  and  their 
tool  in  turn  had  all  else  at  his  mercy.  Pompeius  addressed  the 
senators,  and,  well  trained  by  his  guardians,  spoke  with  brutal 
frankness  to  those  who  had  dared  to  advise  moderation. 

"You,  Rufus,"  he  said,  pointing  a  menacing  finger,  before 
which  that  senator  cowered  in  dread,  "  have  been  advising  the 
Republic  to  tolerate  the  chief  of  its  enemies.  You  bid  me  to 
disarm  or  withdraw  from  Italy,  as  though  the  1  ves  and  prop- 
erty of  any  good  men  would  be  safe  the  moment  Caesar  was 
left  unopposed  to  pour  his  cohorts  of  barbarous  Gauls  and  Ger- 
mans int  J  the  country.  You,  Calidius,  have  given  the  same 
untimely  advice.  Beware  lest  you  repent  tho  hour  when  you 
counselled  that  I  should  disarm  or  quit  the  neighbourhood  of 
Rome. "  The  two-edged  suggestion  contained  in  th  is  last  warn- 
ing was  too  marked  for  the  reproved  men  not  to  turn  pule  with 
dread,  and  slink  away  trembling  behind  their  associates. 

"But,"  continued  Pompeius,  "  I  have  praise  as  well  as  blame; 
Marcus  Cato  has  not  deserted  the  Republic.  He  has  advised, 
and  advised  well,  that  the  proconsul  of  the  Gauls  be  stripped 
of  his  legions."  It  was  Cato's  turn  now  to  bite  his  lips  with 
mortification,  for  in  times  past  he  had  foretold  that  through 
Pompeius  great  miseries  would  come  to  the  state,  and  in  his 
praetorship  had  declared  that  Pompeius  ought  to  go  to  his 
province,  and  not  stay  at  home  to  stir  up  tumults  and  anarchy 
from  which  he  could  emerge  as  monarch.  And  such  praise 
from  the  Magnus's  lips,  under  the  present  circumstances,  was 
gall  and  wormwood  to  his  haughty  soul. 

"And,"  continued  Pompeius,  "I  shall  not  forget  to  applaud 
the  energetic  counsels  of  Doraitius  and  Lentulus  Crus.  Let 
those  who  wish  to  preserve  life  and  property,"  he  added,  with 
a  menacing  significance,  "see  to  it  that  they  do  as  these  gen* 
tlemen  advise." 


THE  NEW  CONSULS 


276 


And  thereupon  there  was  a  great  shout  of  applause  from 
all  the  more  rabid  senators,  in  which  the  rest  thought  it  safer 
to  join,  with  simulated  heartiness.  But  Pompeius  did  not  stop 
here.  He  brought  before  the  senators  tribunes  from  the  two 
legions  taken  from  Caesar,  and  these  tribunes  loudly  declaimed 
—  having  learned  their  lesson  well  —  that  their  troops  were  ill- 
affected  toward  their  former  commander,  and  would  follow 
Pompeius  to  the  last.  And  the  Magnus  produced  veteran 
officers  of  his  old  campaigns,  whom  hope  of  reward  and  pro- 
motion had  induced  to  come  and  declare  for  their  former  com- 
mander. Late,  very  late,  the  informal  session  of  the  Senate 
broke  up.  The  "Fathers  of  the  Republic  "  went  each  man  to 
his  own  dwelling;  but  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  as  to  what 
was  to  come  of  the  doings  of  the  day. 

Flaccus,  the  banker,  had  of  course  no  access  to  the  confer- 
ence; but  he  had  waited  outside  the  gate  of  the  palace,  to  learn 
the  issue  from  an  acquaintance  in  the  Senate.  His  patience 
was  at  last  rewarded. 

"Tell  me,  friend,"  was  his  question,  "what  will  be  the  out- 
come of  this;  shall  I  risk  any  loans  to-morrow?" 

The  friendly  senator  seemed  doubtful. 

"  Caesar  is  a  ruined  man.  Who  imagines  his  legions  will 
fight?    We  know  Labienus  is  with  Pompeius." 

'■  You  are  wrong,"  said  Flaccus. 

"Wrong?  I?"  replied  the  senator.  "I  know  whereof  I 
speak." 

"  Phy ! "  cried  the  banker,  "  not  Caesar,  but  you  are  ruined. 
The  legions  will  fight." 

"Don't  prophesy,"  sneered  the  acquaintance,  "seeing  that 
you  brokers  always  keep  out  of  politics." 

"You  politicians  are  blind,"  retorted  Flaccus. 


•'!-■) 


m 
>.  »i 


276 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


The  debate  raged  on.  But  by  law  the  Senate  could  not 
convene  on  the  third  and  fourth  of  the  month,  and  the  question 
of  setting  aside  the  tribunician  veto  went  over  until  the  fifth. 
It  was  the  last  lull  before  the  outbreak  of  the  great  tempest. 
The  little  group  of  Caesarians  put  forth  their  final  efforts. 
Drusus  went  in  person  to  call  on  Cicero,  the  great  orator,  and 
plead  with  him  to  come  out  from  his  residence  in  the  suburbs 
and  argue  for  peace.  The  destroyer  of  Catilina  had  declared 
that  he  would  not  forfeit  his  rights  to  a  triumph  for  his  Cili- 
cian  victories  by  appearing  prematurely  in  the  Senate.  Be- 
sides, he  could  never  antagonize  Pompeius.  Curio  smiled 
grimly  when  his  colleague  reported  his  fruitless  embassy. 

"I  think,  my  friends,"  said  the  politician,  "we  shall  soon 
prove  the  old  saying,  'Whom  the  gods  would  destroy,  they  first 
make  mad.'" 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY 


VjS'il 


The  rapid  march  of  events  that  week  had  taken  Drusus  out 
of  himself,  and  made  him  forgetful  of  personal  consequences ; 
but  it  sobered  him  when  he  heard  Curio  and  Cselius,  his  asso- 
ciates, telling  Balbus  where  their  wills  would  be  found  deposited 
if  anything  calamitous  were  to  befall  them.  After  all,  life  was 
very  sweet  to  the  young  Livian.  He  could  not  at  heart  desire 
to  drift  off  into  nothingness— to  stop  breathing,  thinking,  feel- 
ing.  And  for  the  last  time  he  reviewed  his  position;  told 
himself  that  it  was  not  an  unworthy  cau  ie  for  which  he  was 
contending;  that  it  was  not  treason,  but  patriotism,  to  wish  to 
overthrow  the  great  oligart'>y  of  noble  families,  who  by  their 
federated  influence  had  pulled  the  wires  to  every  electoral 
assembly,  so  that  hardly  a  man  not  of  their  own  coterie  had 
been  elected  to  high  office  for  many  a  long  year;  while  the 
officials  themselves  had  grown  full  and  wanton  on  the  revenues 
wrung  from  the  score  of  unfortunate  provinces. 

The  feeling  against  the  Caecarians  was  very  bitter  in  the  city. 
Caisar  had  always  been  the  friend  and  darling  of  the  populace ; 
but,  now  that  his  star  seemed  setting,  hardly  a  voice  was  raised, 
save  to  cry  up  the  patriotism  and  determination  of  the  consuls 
aud  Pompeius  Magnus.  Soldiers  of  the  latter's  legions  were 
everywhere.    The  Senate  was  to  convene  the  afternoon  of  the 

277 


■m 


278 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


• 


seventh,  in  the  Curia  of  Pompeius,  in  the  Campus  Martius. 
Lentulus  Cms  was  dragging  forth  every  obscure  senator,  every 
retired  politician,  whos3  feet  almost  touched  the  grave,  to  swell 
his  majority.  All  knew  that  the  tribunes'  vetoes  were  to  be  set 
aside,  and  arbitrary  power  decreed  to  the  consuls.  Drusus  began 
to  realize  that  the  personal  peril  was  pressing. 

"  Won't  his  head  look  pretty  for  the  crows  to  pick  at?  "  com- 
mented Marcus  Laeca  to  a  friend,  as  the  two  swept  pas'  Drusus 
on  the  street.  The  Livian  heard  the  loudly  muttered  words  and 
trembled.  It  was  easy  to  laud  the  Decii  who  calmly  sacrificed 
their  lives  for  the  Republic,  and  many  another  martyr  to  patri- 
otism ;  it  was  quite  another  thing  to  feel  the  mortal  fear  of  death 
coursing  in  one's  veins,  to  reflect  that  soon  perhaps  the  dogs 
might  be  tearing  this  body  which  guarded  that  strange  thing 
one  calls  self;  to  reflect  that  all  which  soon  will  be  left  of  one 
is  a  bleaching  skull,  fixed  high  in  some  public  place,  at  Thich 
the  heartless  mob  would  point  and  gibber,  saying,  "  That  is  the 
head  of  Quintus  Livius  Di  asus,  the  rebel ! " 

Drusus  wandered  on — on  to  the  only  place  in  Rome  where 
he  could  gain  the  moral  courage  to  carry  him  undaunted  through 
that  which  was  before  him  —  to  the  Atrium  of  Vesta.  He 
entered  the  house  of  the  Vestals  and  sent  for  his  aunt.  Fabia 
came  quickly  enough,  for  her  heart  had  been  with  her  nephew 
all  these  days  that  tried  men's  souls.     The  noble  woman  put 

her  arms  around  the  youth  —  for  he  was  still  hardly  more and 

pressed  him  to  her  breast. 

"Aunt  Fabia,"  said  Drusus,  growing  very  weak  and  pais, 
now  that  he  felt  her  warm,  loving  caress,  "  do  you  know  that 
in  two  or  three  days  you  will  have  as  nephew  a  proscribed 
insurgent,  perhaps  with  a  price  on  his  head,  who  perhaps 
is  speedily  to  die  by  the  executioner,  like  the  most  ignoble 
felon?  » 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY  279 

"Yes,"  said  Fabia,  also  very  pale,  yet  smiling  with  a  sweet, 
pave  smile  — the  smile  of  a  goddess  who  grieves  at  the  miser- 
ies of  mortal  men,  yet  W'  'u  divine  omniscience  glances  beyond, 
and  sees  the  happiness  evolved  from  nain.     "Yes,  I  have 
heard  of  all  that  is  passing  in  the  Senate.    And  I  know,  too 
that  my  Quintus  will  prove  L    iself  a  Fabian  and  a  Livian,  t^ 
whom  the  right  cause  and  the  good  of  the  Republic  are  all  — 
and  the  fear  of  shame  and  death  is  nothing."    And  then  she 
sat  down  with  him  upon  a  couch,  and  took  his  head  in  her 
lap,  and  stroked  huu  as  if  she  were  his  moth3r.     "Ah I  my 
Quintus,"  she  said,  "you  are  still  very  young,  and  it  is  e.-sy 
for  one  like  you  to  enlist  with  all  your  ardour  in  a  cause  that 
seems  righteous;  yes,  and  in  the  heat  of  the  moment  to  make 
i.ny  sacrifice  for  it;  but  it  is  not  so  easy  for  you  or  any  other 
man  calmly  to  face  shame  and  annihilation,  when  the  actual 
shadow  of  danger  can  be  seen  creeping  up  hour  by  hour.     I 
know  that  neither  you  nor  many  another  man  wise  and  good 
believes  that  there  are  any  gods.     And  I  —  I  am  only  a  silly 
old  woman,  with  little  or  no  wisdom  and  wit  —  " 

"Not  silly  and  not  old,  carissima!"  interrupted  Drusus, 
smiling  at  her  self-depreciation. 

"  We  won't  argue, "  said  Fabia,  in  a  bit  lighter  vein.  "  But 
-as  I  would  say —  I  believe  in  gods,  and  that  they  order  all 
things  well." 

"  Why,  then,"  protested  the  young  man,  "do  we  suffer  vrcnp 
or  grief?    If  gods  there  are,  they  are  indifeerent;  or,  far  worse, 
malevolent,  who  love  to  work  us  woe." 

Again  Fabia  shook  her  head. 

"If  we  were  gods,"  said  she,  "we  would  all  be  wise,  and 
could  see  the  good  to  come  out  of  every  seeming  evil.  There  .' 
I  am,  as  I  said,  silly  and  old,  ..nd  little  enough  comfort  can 
words  of  mine  bring  a  bright  young  man  whose  head  is  crammed 


m 


! 


;| 


II 


280 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


with  ill  the  learned  lore  of  the  schools  of  Athens.  But  know 
this,  Quintus,  so  long  as  I  live,  you  shall  live  in  ir«y  h  art  — 
living  or  dead  though  you  be.  And  believe  me,  the  pleasure  of 
life  is  but  a  very  little  thing ;  it  is  sweet,  but  how  quickly  it 
passes !  And  the  curses  or  praises  of  men  —  these,  too,  only  a 
few  mouldy  rolls  of  books  keep  for  decay !  What  profits  it  to 
Miltiades  this  hour,  that  a  few  marks  on  a  papyrus  sheet  ascribe 
to  him  renown ;  or  bow  much  is  the  joy  of  Sextus  Tarquinius 
darkened  because  a  group  of  other  marks  cast  reproach  upon 
his  name  ?  If  so  be  death  is  a  sleep,  how  much  better  to  feel 
at  the  end,  'I  die,  but  I  die  self-approved,  ana  justified  by 
self !  *  And  if  death  is  not  all  a  sleep ;  if,  as  Socrates  tells  us, 
there  are  hopes  that  we  but  pass  from  a  base  life  to  another 
with  less  of  dross,  then  how  do  pleasures  and  glories,  griefs 
and  dishonours,  of  this  present  life  touch  upon  a  man  whose 
happiness  or  woe  will  be  found  all  within  ?  " 

And  so  the  good  woman  talked,  giving  to  Drusus  her  own 
pure  faith  and  hope  and  courage;  and  when  the  intellectual 
philosopher  within  him  revolted  a*  some  of  her  simple  prem- 
ises and  guileless  sophistries,  against  his  will  he  was  per- 
suaded by  them,  and  was  fain  to  own  to  himself  that  the  heart 
of  a  good  woman  is  past  finding  out ;  that  its  impulses  are  more 
genuine,  its  intuitions  truer,  its  promptings  surer,  than  all  the 
fine-spun  in-ellectuality  of  the  most  subtle  metaphysician. 
When  at  last  Drusus  rose  to  leave  his  aunt,  his  face  was  glow- 
ing with  a  healthy  colour,  his  step  was  elastic,  his  voice  reso- 
nant with  a  noble  courage.  Fabia  embraced  him  again  and 
again.  "  Remember,  whatever  befalls,"  were  her  parting  words, 
"  I  shall  still  love  you."  And  when  Drusus  went  out  of  the 
house  he  saw  the  dignified  figure  of  th«^  Vestal  gazing  after 
him.  A  few  minutes  later  he  passed  no  less  a  personage  than 
the  consular  Lucius  Domitius  on  his  way  to  some  political 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY 


281 


conference.  He  did  not  know  what  that  dignitary  muttered 
as  he  swept  past  in  spotless  toga,  but  the  gloomy  ferocity  of 
his  brow  needed  no  interpreter.  Drusus,  however.  nev«r  foi 
a  moment  gave  himself  disquietude'.  He  was  fortified  for  the 
best  and  the  worst,  not  by  any  dumb  resignation,  not  by  any 
cant  of  philosophy,  but  by  an  inward  monitor  which  told  him 
that  some  power  in  some  way  would  lead  him  forth  out  of  all 
dangers  in  a  manner  whereof  man  could  neither  ask  nor  think. 


On  the  sixth  of  January  the  debate,  as  already  said,  drew 
toward  its  end.  All  measures  of  conciliation  had  been  voted 
down ;  the  crisis  was  close  at  hand.  On  the  seventh,  after  his 
interview  with  Fabia,  Drusus  went  back  to  his  own  lodgings, 
made  a  few  revisions  in  his  will,  and  in  the  presence  of  two  or 
three  friends  declared  Cappadox  manumitted,!  lest  he,  by  some 
chance,  fall  into  the  cliitches  of  a  brutal  aaster.  The  young 
man  next  wrote  a  loui,  letter  to  Covnelia  for  Agias  to  forward 
to  Baiae,  and  put  in  it  such  hope  as  he  -ould  giean  fiom  the 
dark  words  of  the  i^nilosophers ;  that  even  if  destruction  now 
overtook  him,  death  perhaps  did  not  end  all ;  that  perhaps  they 
wc  .Id  meet  beyond  the  grave.  Then  he  took  leave  of  his  weep- 
ing  freedmen  and  slaves,  and  strolled  out  into  the  city,  and 
wandered  about  the  Forum  and  the  Sacred  Way,  to  enjoy,  per- 
chance, a  last  view  of  the  sites  that  were  to  the  Roman  so  dear. 
Then  finally  he  turned  toward  the  Campus  Martins,  and  was 
strolling  down  under  the  long  marble-paved  colonnade  of 
the  Portico  of  Pompeius.  Lost  in  a  deep  reverie,  he  was  for- 
getful of  all  present  events,  until  he  was  roused  by  a  quick 
twitch  at  the  elbow;  he  looked  around  and  found  Agias  before 
him. 

1  Manumissio  inter  amico,  was  less  formal  than  the  regular  ceremony 
before  the  praator.  ^^»uj 


'^      I 


it 

II 

i-i 

'■  51 


282 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


111 


*'A]  domine,"  cried  the  young  Greek,  "I  have  friends  Ji 
the  house  of  Lentulus.  I  have  just  been  told  by  them  th-^t 
the  consul  has  sworn  that  he  will  begin  to  play  Sulla  this  very 
day.  Neither  you,  nor  Antonius,  Cassius,  Curio,  nor  the 
other  supporters  of  Caesar  will  be  alive  tonight.  Do  not 
go  into  the  Curia.  Get  away,  quickly !  Warn  your  friends, 
and  leave  Rome,  or  to-night  you  will  all  be  strangled  in  the 
Tullianum!" 

The  Tullianum!  Drusus  knew  no  other  term  to  conjure  up 
a  like  abode  of  horrors  —  the  ancient  prison  of  the  city,  a  mere 
chamber  sunk  in  the  ground,  and  beneath  that  a  dungeon,  acces- 
sible only  by  au  opening  in  the  flc  - 1  .bove  —  where  the  luckless 
Jugurtha  had  perished  of  cold  and  starvation,  and  where  Len- 
tulus Sura,  Cethegus,  and  the  other  lieutenants  of  Catilina  had 
been  garroted,  in  defiance  of  all  their  legal  rights,  by  the  arbi- 
trary decree  of  a  rancorous  Senate !  So  at  last  the  danger  had 
come!  Drusus  felt  himself  quiver  at  every  fibre.  He  endured 
a  sensation  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  felt  before  —  one  of 
utter  moral  faintness.  But  he  steadied  himself  quickly.  Shame 
at  his  own  recurring  cowardice  overmastered  him.  "  I  am  an 
unworthy  Livian,  indeed,"  he  muttered,  not  perhaps  realizing 
that  it  is  far  more  heroic  consciously  to  confront  and  receive 
the  full  terrors  of  a  peril,  and  put  them  by,  than  to  have  them 
harmlessly  roll  off  on  some  self-acting  mental  armour. 

"  Escape !  There  is  yet  time !  "  urged  Agias,  pulling  his 
toga.     Drusus  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  until  the  Senate  has  set  aside  the  veto  of  the  tribunes," 
he  replied  quietly. 

"But  the  danger  will  then  be  imminent!  " 

"  A  good  soldier  does  not  leave  his  post,  my  excellent  Agias," 
said  the  Roman,  "  until  duty  orders  him  away.  Our  duty  is  n 
the  Senate  until  we  can  by  our  presence  and  voict  do  no  more. 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY 


When  that  task  is  over,  we  go  to  Caesar  as  fast  as  horse  may 
bear  us;  but  not  until  then." 

"Then  I  have  warned  you  all  in  vain! "  cried  Agiaa. 

"Not  at  all.  You  may  still  be  of  the  greatest  service. 
Arrange  so  that  we  can  leave  Eome  the  instant  we  quit  the 
Curia." 

"But  if  the  lictors  seize  you  before  you  get  out  of  the 
building?" 

"  We  can  only  take  our  chance.  I  think  we  shall  be  per- 
mitted to  go  out.  I  had  intended  to  ride  out  of  the  city  this 
evening  if  nothing  hindered  and  the  final  vote  had  been 
passed.  But  now  I  see  that  cannot  be  done.  You  have  wit 
and  cunning,  Agias.  Scheme,  provide.  We  must  escape 
from  Rome  at  the  earliest  moment  consistent  with  our  duty 
and  honour." 

"I  have  it,"  said  Agia.?,  his  face  lighting  up.  "Come  at 
once  after  leaving  the  Curia,  to  the  rear  of  the  Temple  of 
Mars.*  I  know  one  or  two  of  the  temple  servants,  and  they 
will  give  me  the  use  of  their  rooms.  There  I  will  have  ready 
some  slave  dresses  for  a  disguise,  and  just  across  the  ^Emilian 
bridge  I  will  have  some  fast  horses  waiting — that  is,  if  you  can 
give  me  an  order  on  your  stables." 

Drusus  took  off  his  signet  ring. 

"Show  that  to  Pausanias.  He  will  honour  every  request 
you  make,  be  it  for  a  million  sesterces." 

Agias  bowed  and  was  off.  For  the  last  time  Drusus  was 
tempted  to  call  him  back  and  say  that  the  flight  would  begin 
at  oncG.  Bui  the  nimble  Greek  was  already  out'  of  sight,  and 
heroism  became  a  necessity.  Drusus  resolutely  turned  his 
Bteps  toward  the  senate-house.  Not  having  been  able  to 
forecast  the  immediate  moves  of  the  enemy,  he  had  not  arranged 

1  The  .£de8  Martis  of  the  Campus  Martius. 


Ill 


J  M 


284 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


for  hurried  flight;  it  was  to  be  regretted,  although  he  had 
known  that  on  that  day  the  end  of  the  crisis  would  come. 
He  soon  met  Antonius,  and  imparted  to  him  what  he  had 
just  learned  from  Agias,  and  the  precautions  taken. 

Antonius  shook  his  head,  and  remarked :  — 

"  You  ought  not  to  go  with  me.  Little  enough  can  we  who 
are  tribunes  do;  you  have  neither  voice  nor  vote,  and  Len- 
tulus  is  your  personal  foe.  So  back,  before  it  is  too  late.  Let 
us  shift  for  ourselves." 

Drusus  replied  never  a  word,  but  simply  took  the  tribune's 
arm  and  walked  the  faster  toward  the  Curia. 

"I  am  a  very  young  soldier,"  he  said  presently  ;  "do  not  be 
angry  if  I  wish  to  show  that  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  whizzing 
arrows." 

"Then,  my  friend,  whatever  befalls,  so  long  as  life  is 
in  my  body,  remember  you  have  a  brother  in  Marcus 
Antonius." 

The  two  friends  pressed  one  another's  hands,  and  entered 
the  Curia  Pompeii.  There  in  one  of  the  foremost  seats  sat  the 
J^Tagnus,*  the  centre  of  a  great  flock  of  adulators,  who  were 
basking  in  the  sunshine  of  his  favour.  Yet  Drusus,  as  he 
glanced  over  at  the  Imperator,  thought  that  the  great  man 
looked  harassed  and  worried  —  forced  to  be  partner  in  a  scheme 
when  he  would  cheerfully  be  absent.  Fluttering  in  their  broad 
togas  about  the  senate-house  were  Domitius,  Cato,  the  Mar- 
celli,  and  Scipio,  busy  whipping  into  line  the  few  remaining 
waverers.  As  Cato  passed  the  tribune's  bench,  and  saw  the 
handful  of  Caesarians  gathered  there,  he  cast  a  glance  of  inde- 

1  Pompeius  was  not  allowed  by  law  to  attend  sessions  of  the  Senate  (so 
long  as  he  was  proconsul  of  Spain)  when  held  inside  the  old  city  limits ;  but 
the  Curia  which  he  himself  built  was  outside  the  walls  in  the  Campus  Martins. 
This  meeting  seems  to  have  been  convened  there  especially  that  he  might 
attend  it. 


m 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY 


285 


scribable  malignity  upon  thera,  a  glance  that  made  Drusua 
shudder,  and  think  again  of  the  horrors  of  the  Tullianum. 

"  I  know  now  how  Cato  looked,"  said  he  to  Antonius,  "when 
he  denounced  the  Catilinarians  and  urged  that  they  should  be 
put  to  death  without  trial  " 

Antonius  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  replied: 

«  Cato  cannot  forgive  Caesar.  When  Caesar  was  consul,  Cato 
interrupted  his  speech,  and  Caesar  had  him  haled  off  to  prison. 
Marcus  Cato  never  forgives  or  forgets." 

Curio,  Caelius,  and  Quintus  Cassius  had  entered  the  senate- 
house— the  only  Caesarians  pi-esent  besides  Antonius  and  his 
viator.  The  first  two  went  and  took  their  seats  in  the  body  of 
the  building,  and  Drusus  noticed  how  their  colleagues  shrank 
away  from  them,  refusing  to  sit  near  the  supporters  of  the 
Gallic  proconsul. 

"Eho!"  remarked  Antonius,  his  spirits  rising  as  the  crisis 
drew  on.  «  This  is  much  like  Catilina's  days,  to  be  sure !  No 
one  would  sit  with  him  when  he  went  into  the  Senate.  How- 
ever, I  imagine  that  these  excellent  gentlemen  will  hardly  find 
Caesar  as  easy  to  handle  as  Catilina." 

Again  Lentulus  was  in  his  curule  chair,  and  again  the  solemn 
farce  of  taking  the  auspices,  preparatory  to  commencing  the 
se'ssion,  was  gone  through. 

Ti^en  for  the  last  time  in  that  memorable  series  of  debates 
Lentulus  arose  and  addressed  the  Senate,  stonning,  browbeat- 
ing, threatening,  and  finally  ending  with  these  words,  that 
brought  everything  to  a  head:  — 

"  Seeing  then,  Conscript  Fathers,  that  Quintus  Cassius  and 
Marcus  Antonius  are  using  their  tribunician  office  to  aid 
Caius  Caesar  to  perpetuate  his  tyranny,  the  consuls  ask  you  to 
clothe  the  magistrates  with  dictatorial  power  in  order  that  the 
liberties  of  the  Eepublic  may  not  ^-^  subverted  I " 


n  ■ 


I 


1 


286 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


The  liberties  of  the  Republic!  Liberty  to  plunder  prov- 
inces! To  bribe!  To  rob  tlie  treasury!  To  defraud!  To 
violate  the  law  of  man  and  God!  To  rule  the  whole  world  so 
that  a  corrupt  oligarchy  might  be  aggrandized!  Far,  far  had 
the  nation  of  the  older  Claudii,  Fabii,  and  Cornelii  fallen  from 
that  proud  eminence  when,  a  hundred  years  before,  Polybius, 
f  ^ntrasting  the  Romans  with  the  degenerate  Greeks,  had 
exclaimed,  "A  statesman  of  Hellas,  with  ten  checking  clerks 
and  ten  seals,  .  .  .  cannot  keep  faith  with  a  single  talent; 
Romans,  in  their  magistracies  and  embassies,  handle  great 
sums  of  money,  and  yet  from  pure  respect  of  oath  keep  their 
faith  intact." 

But  the  words  of  selfish  virulence  and  cant  had  bee.,  uttered, 
and  up  from  the  body  of  the  house  swelled  a  shout  of  approvp' 
growing  louder  and  louder  every  instant. 

Then  up  rose  Domitius,  on  his  face  the  leer  of  a  brutal 
triumph. 

"Conscript  Fathers,"  he  said,  "I  call  for  a  vote  on  the  ques- 
tion of  martial  law.  Have  the  Senate  divide  on  the  motion. 
'  Let  the  consuls,  praetors,  tribunes  of  the  plebs,  and  men  of 
consular  rank  see  to  it  that  the  Republic  suffers  no  harm.' " 

Another  shout  of  applause  rolled  along  the  seats,  fiercer 
and  fiercer,  and  through  it  all  a  shower  of  curses  and  abusive 
epithets  upon  the  Caesarians.  All  around  Drusas  seemed  to  be 
tossing  and  bellowing  the  breakers  of  some  vast  ocean,  an  ocean 
of  human  forms  and  faces,  that  was  about  to  dash  upon  hira 
and  overwhelm  him,  in  mad  fury  irresistible.  The  din  was 
louder  and  louder.  The  bronze  casings  on  the  walls  rattled, 
the  pediments  and  pavements  seemed  to  vibrate ;  outside,  the  vast 
mob  swarming  around  the  Curia  reenhoed  the  shout.  "Down 
with  Caesar ! "  "  Down  with  the  tribunes !"  "  lo  !  Pompeius ! " 

It  was  all  as  some  wild  distorted  dream  passing  before  Dm- 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY 


281 


sus's  eyes.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  conceive  the  scene 
as  otherwise.  In  a  sort  of  stupor  he  saw  the  senators  swarm- 
ing to  the  right  of  the  building,  hastening  to  cast  their  votes 
in  favour  of  Domitius's  motion.  Only  two  men  —  under  a 
storm  of  abuse  and  hootings,  passed  to  the  left  and  went  on 
record  against  the  measure.  These  vere  Curio  and  Cselius; 
and  they  stood  for  some  moments  alone  on  the  deserted  side  of 
the  house,  defiantly  glaring  at  the  raging  Senate.  Antonius 
and  Cassiui  contemptuously  remained  in  their  seats  — for  no 
magistrate  could  vote  in  the  Senate. 

It  was  done;  it  could  not  be  undone.     Not  C»sar,  but  the 
Senate,  had  decreed  the  end  of  the  glorious  Republic.    Already, 
with  hasty  ostentation,  some  senators  were  stepping  outside  the 
Curia,  and  returning  clad  no  longer  in  the  toga  of  peace,  but  in 
a  military  cloak  *  which  a  slave  had  been  keeping  close  at  hand 
in  readiness.     Already  Cato  was  on  i.is  feet  glaring  at  the 
Caesarian  tribunes,  and  demanding  that  first  of  all  they  be  sub- 
jected to  punishment  for  persisting  in  their  veto.    The  Senate 
was  getting  more  boisterous  each  minute.      A  tumult  was  like 
to  break  out,  in  which  some  deed  of  violen.u  would  be  com- 
mitted, which  would  give  the  key-note  to  the  whole  sanguinary 
struggle  impending.     Yet  in  the  face  ot  the  raging  tempest 
Marcus  Antonius  arose  and   confronted  the  assembly.      It 
raged,  hooted,  howled,  cu  .ed.     He  still  remained  standing. 
Cato  tried  to  oontinue  his  invective.     The  tempest  tha     le  had 
done  so  much  to  raise  drowned  his  own  voice,  and  he  relapsed 
into  his  seat.     But  stiil  Antonius  stood  his  ground,  quietly, 
with   no   attempt   to    shout    down    the    raging    Senate,    as 
steadfastly  as  though  a  thousand  threats  were  not  buzzir<» 
around  his  ears.     Drusus's  heart  went  with  his  friend  tliat 
instant.     He   had  never  been  in  a  battle,  yet  he  realized 

*  Sagum. 


'U  ';1 


U  'I 


i.   ■ 


288 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


that  it  was  vastly  more  heroic  to  stand  undaunted  before 
this  audience,  than  to  walk  into  the  bloodiest  mglee  without 
a  tremor. 

Then  of  a  sudden,  like  the  interval  between  the  recession  of 
one  wave  and  the  advance  of  a  second  billow,  came  a  moment 
of  silence ;  and  into  that  silence  Antonius  broke,  with  a  voice 
so  strong,  so  piercing,  so  resonant,  that  the  most  envenomed 
oligarch  checked  his  clamour  to  give  ear. 

"Hearken,  ye  senators  of   the  Republic,  ye  false  patres, 
ye  fathers  of  the  people  who  are  no  fathers  !     So  far  have  we 
waited ;  we  wait  no  more !     So  much  have  we  seen ;  we'll  see 
no  further !     So  much  have  we  endured,  —  reproaches,  repulses 
deceits,  insult,  outrage,  yes,  for  I  see  it  in  the  consul's  eye, 
next  do  we  suffer  violence  itself;  but  that  we  will  not  tamely 
suffer.     Ay  !  drive  us  from  our  seats,  as  Marcus  Cato  bids  you ! 
Ay !  strike  our  names  from  the  Senate  list,  as  Domitius  will 
propose !     Ay  !  hound  your  lictors,  sir  consul,  aft  or  us,  to  lay 
their  rods  across  our  backs!     Ay!  enforce  your  decree  pro- 
claiming martial  law  !     So  have  you  acted  before  to  give  legal 
fiction  to  your  tyranny !     But  tell  me  this,  senators,  pra;torii, 
consulars,  and  consuls,  where  will  this  mad  violence  of  yours 
find  end  ?    Tiberius  Gracchus  you  have  murdered.    Caius  Grac- 
chus you  have  murdered.    Marcus  Drusus  you  have  murdered. 
Ten  thousand  good  men  has  your  creature  Sulla  murdered. 
Without  trial,  without  defence,  were  the  friends  of  Catilina 
murdered.     And  now  will  ye  add  one  more  deed  of  blood  to 
those  going  before  ?    Will  ye  strike  down  an  inviolate  tribune, 
in  Rome,. —  in  tlie  shadow  of  the  very  Curia  ?    Ah  !  days  of  the 
Decemvirs,  when  an  evil  Ten  ruled  over  the  state  — would  tiiat 
those  days  might  return !     Not  ten  tyrants  but  a  thousand  oi> 
press  us  now !     Then  despotism  wore  no  cloak  of  patriotism 
or  legal  right,  but  walked  unmasked  in  all  its  blackness  I 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY 


289 


«*  Hearken,  ye  senators,  and  in  the  evil  days  to  come,  remem- 
ber all  I  say.  Out  of  the  seed  which  ye  sow  this  hour  come 
wars,  civil  wars;  Roman  against  Roman,  kinsman  against 
kinsman,  brother  against  brother!  There  comes  impiety, 
violence,  cruelty,  bloodshed,  anarchy!  There  comes  the  de- 
struction of  the  old;  there  comes  the  birth,  amid  pain  and 
anguish,  of  the  new !  Ye  who  grasp  at  money,  at  power,  at 
high  office ;  who  trample  on  truth  and  right  to  serve  your  self- 
ish ends;  false,  degenerate  Romans,  — one  thing  can  wipe 
away  your  crimes  —  " 

"What?"  shouted  Cato,  across  the  senate-house;  while 
Pompeius,  who  was  shifting  uncomfortably  in  his  seat,  had 
turned  very  red. 

"  Blood ! "  cried  back  Antonius,  carried  away  by  the  frenzy 
of  his  own  invective ;  then,  shooting  a  lightning  glance  over 
the  awe-struck  Senate,  he  spoke  as  though  gifted  with  some 
terrible  prophetic  omniscience.     "  Ponii>eius  Magnus,  the  day 
of    your   prosperity   is    past  — prepare    ingloriously   to   die! 
Lentulus  Cms,  you,  too,  shall  pay  the  forfeit  of  your  crimes ! 
Metellus  Scipio,  Marcus  Cato,  Lucius  Domitius,  within  five 
years  shall  you  all  be  dead  —  dead  and  with  infamy  upon  your 
names !    Your  blood,  your  blood  shall  wipe  away  your  folly  and 
your  lust  for  power.     Ye  stay,  we  go.     Ye  stay  to  pass  once 
more  uuvetoed  the  decree  declaring  Ciesar  and  his  friends 
enemies  of  the  Republic;    we  go  — go  to  endure  our  outlaw 
state.     Put  we  go  to  appeal  from  the  unjust  scales  of  your 
false  Justice  to  the  juster  sword  of  an  impartial  Mars,  and 
may    the    Furies    that    haunt    the    lives    of    tyrants    and 
shedders  of  innocent  blood  attend  you  —  attend  your  persons 
so    long    as    ye    are    doomed    to    live,    and    your    memory 
so  long   as   men  shall  have  power  to  heap  on  your  names 
reproach ! " 


I  i 


';■  i 


ill 


■  gj:  J  :.  ..I.,h 


290 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


Drusus  hardl}  knew  that  Antonius  had  so  much  as  stopped, 
when  he  found  his  friend  leading  him  out  of  the  Curia. 

Behind,  all  was  still  as  they  walked  away  toward  the  Temple 
of  Mars.  Then,  as  they  proceeded  a  little  distance,  a  great 
roar  as  of  a  distant  storm-wind  drifted  out  from  the  senate- 
house  —  so  long  had  Antonius  held  his  audience  spellbound. 

"Finitum  est  I"  said  Curio,  his  eyes  cast  on  the  ground. 
"We  have  seen,  my  friends,  the  last  day  of  the  Republic." 

II 

Behind  the  Temple  of  Mars  the  faithful  Agias  was  ready 
with  the  slaves'  dresses  which  were  to  serve  as  a  simple  dis- 
guise. Antonius  and  his  companions  tossed  off  their  cum- 
brous togas  and  put  on  the  dark,  coarse  cloaks  and  slippers 
which  were  worn  by  slaves  and  people  of  the  lower  classes. 
These  changes  were  quickly  made,  but  valuable  time  was 
wasted  while  Antonius  —  who,  as  a  bit  of  a  dandy,  wore  his 
hair  rather  long  *  —  underwent  a  few  touches  wiJi  the  shears. 
It  was  now  necessary  to  get  across  the  Tiber  without  being 
recognized,  and  once  fairly  out  of  Rome  the  chances  of  a  suc- 
cessful pursuit  were  not  many.  On  leaving  the  friendly  shelter 
of  the  Temple  buildings,  nothing  untoward  was  to  be  seen.  The 
crowds  rushing  to  and  fro,  from  the  Curia  and  back,  were  to. 
busy  and  excited  to  pay  attention  to  a  little  group  of  slaves, 
who  carefully  kept  from  intruding  themselves  into  notice. 
Occasionally  the  roar  and  echo  of  applause  and  shouting  came 
from  the  now  distant  Curia,  indicating  that  the  Senate  was  still 
at  its  unholy  work  of  voting  wars  and  destructions.  A  short 
walk  would  bring  them  across  the  Pons  ^milius,  and  there, 
in  the  shelter  of  one  of  the  groves  of  the  new  public  gardens 
which  Caesar  had  just  been  laying  out  on  Janiculum,  were  wait- 

1  Slaves  were  always  close  clipped. 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY  291 

ing  several  of  the  fastest  mounts  which  the  activity  of  Agias  and 
the  lavish  expenditures  of  Pausanias  had  been  able  to  procure. 

The  friends  breathed  more  easily, 

"I   hardly  think,"   said  Quintus  Cassius,  "we  shall  be 
molested.     The  consuls  cannot  carry  their  mad  hate  so  far." 

They  were  close  to  the  bridge.  The  -vay  was  lined  with  tall 
warehouses  and  grain  storehouses, » the  precursors  of  the  modern 
" elevators."  They  could  see  the  tawny  Tiber  water  flashing 
between  the  stone  arches  of  the  bridge.  The  swarms  of  peasants 
and  countrymen  driving  herds  of  lowing  kine  and  bleating  sheep 
toward  the  adjacent  Forum  Boarium  seemed  unsuspicious  and 
inoffensive.  A  moment  m.  re  and  all  Drusus's  tremors  and 
anxieties  would  have  passed  as  harmless  fantasy. 

Their  feet  were  on  the  bridge.  They  could  notice  the  wind 
sweeping  through  the  tall  cypresses  in  the  gardens  where 
waited  the  steeds  that  were  to  take  them  to  safety.  The 
friends  quickened  their  pace.  A  cloud  had  drifted  across  the 
sun;  there  was  a  moment's  gloom.  When  the  light  danced 
back,  Drusus  caught  Curio's  arm  with  a  start. 

"Look!  "  The  new  sunbeams  had  glanrei  on  the  polished 
helmet  of  a  soldier  standing  guard  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
bridge. 

There  was  only  an  instant  for  hesitation. 

"Lentulus  has  foreseen  that  we  must  try  to  escape  by  this 
way,"  said  Curio,  seriously,  but  without  panic.  "  We  must  go 
back  at  once,  and  try  to  cross  by  the  wooden  bridge  below  or  by 
bome  other  means." 

But  a  great  herd  of  dirty  silver-grey  Etruscan  cattle  came 
over  the  causeway,  and  to  get  ahead  of  them  would  have  been 
impracticable  without  attracting  the  most  unusual  attention.  It 
was  now  evident  enough  that  there  was  a  considerable  guard  at 

*  Horrem. 


S;i 


n 


h 


292 


A  FRIEND  OP  CiESAR 


die  head  of  the  bridge,  and  to  make  a  rush  and  overpower  it  was 
impossible.  The  heavy-uddered  cows  and  snorting,  bellowing 
bulls  dragged  by  with  a  slow  plodding  that  almost  drove  Drusus 
frantic.  They  were  over  at  last,  and  the  friends  hastened  after 
them,  far  more  anxious  to  leave  the  bridge  than  they  had  been 
an  instant  before  to  set  foot  upon  it.  On  they  pressed,  until 
as  if  by  magic  there  stood  across  their  path  the  twelve  lictors 
of  one  of  the  consuls,  with  upraised  fasces.  Behind  the  lictors 
v^as  a  half-century  of  soldiers  in  full  armour,  led  by  their  optio} 

"Sirs,"  announced  the  head  lictor,  "I  am  commanded  by 
the  consul,  Lucius  Lentulus  Crus,  to  put  you  all  under  arrest 
for  treason  against  the  Republic.  Spare  yourselves  the  ir.  ';j- 
nity  of  personal  violence,  by  offering  no  resistance." 

To  resist  wodld  indeed  have  been  suicide.  The  friends  had 
worn  their  short  swords  under  their  cloaks,  but  counting  Agias 
they  were  only  six,  and  the  lictors  were  twelve,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  soldiers,  of  whom  there  were  thirty  or  more. 

The  grourd  seemed  swaying  before  Drusus's  ey^o ;  in  his  ears 
was  a  buzzing ;  his  thoughts  came  to  him,  thick,  confused,  yet 
through  them  all  ran  the  vision  of  Cornelia,  and  the  conviction 
that  he  was  never  to  see  her  again.  He  looked  back.  The 
soldiers  at  the  head  of  the  bridge  had  taken  alarm  and  were 
marching  down  to  complete  the  arrest.  He  looked  before.  The 
lictors,  the  *^^roops,  the  stupid  cattle  and  their  stolid  drivers, 
and  the  great  black-sided  warehouses,  casting  their  gloomy 
shadow  over  the  rippling  river.  Down  stream;  not  a  skiff 
seemed  stirring.  The  water  was  plashing,  dancing,  glancing 
in  the  sunshine.  Below  the  wooden  bridge  the  spars  of  a  huge 
merchantman  were  just  covering  with  canvas,  as  she  stood 
away  from  her  quay.  Up  stream  (the  views  were  all  compressed 
into  the  veriest  moment)  —  with  the  current  came  working,  or 

1  Adjutant,  su'-  rdiuate  tu  a  couturioo. 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY  293 

rather  drifting,  a  heavy  barge  loaded  with  timber.  Only  t^c 
men,  haiidling  mde  paddles,  stood  upon  her  deck,  Tho  ba-K 
was  ab^nt  to  pass  under  the  very  areh  upon  whieh  .t^Z 
handful  of  entrapped  Csesarians.  A  word,  a  motion,  .and  the 
last  hope  of  escape  would  have  been  comprehended  by  the  enemy 
^d  aU  would  have  been  lost.  But  in  moments  of  eLme  2 
^.s  easy  t.  make  a  glance  full  of  pregnancy.  ■Antooius'saw 
ftefaceofh.sfr,end-sawandunderstood,  andtheotherse  m 
barge  would  pass  under  the  bridge! 

"  Fellow,"  replied  Antonius  (the  whole  inspection  of  the  situ- 
ation, formation  of  the  plot,  and  visual  dialogue  had  really  been 
0  rapid  as  to  make  no  long  break  after  the  lictor  ceased  speal- 
ng),    do  you  dare  thu.,  to  do  what  even  the  most  profane  and 
impious  have  never  dared  before?    Will  you  lay  hLs  on  two 
inviolate  tribunes  of  the  plebs,  and  those  und.r  their  persollt 
.rotectioni  and  by  your  very  act  become  a  ™«r_an  outUw 
dented  to  the  gods,  whom  it  is  a  pious  thing  for  any  Ian  to 

" Z'T 'Vu"''  '"•" ''f "''"  "■=  ''"'^ """».  menacingly. 

And  I  would  have  you  know  tlat  neither  you  nor  Quintus 
Opsins  are  reckoned  tribunes  lo,  ..  by  the  Senate;  so  by  n" 
such  plea  can  you  escape  arrest. 

"Tribunes  no  longer!"  cried  ..a ton ius:  "has  tyranny  pro- 
gressed so  far  that  no  mag.trate  can  hold  office  after  he  IZls 
to  humour  the  consuls?"  "«  -  :*ses 

"We  waste  time,  sir,"  said  the  lictor,  sternly.     "Forward 
men;  seize  and  bind  them!"  rovwaia, 

But  Antonius's  brief  parley  had  done  its  work.     As  the  bow 

over  th^'^'     T  "'"'  ''''  '"'^^'  ^""«'  ^^'^"^  ^  -"«!«  l^-d 
over  the  parapet  sprang  on  to  its  dock ;  after  him  leaped  Quintus 

^ae         and  after  hiui  Caelius.     Before  Drusus  could  follow. 


:i^: 


t 


294 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


however,  the  stem  of  the  barge  had  vanished  under  the  arch- 
way. The  lictors  and  soldiers  had  sprung  forward,  but  a  sec- 
ond had  been  lost  by  rushing  to  the  eah '  "rn  side  of  the  bridge, 
where  the  barge  had  jiist  disappeared  from  sight.  Agias,  Anto- 
nias,  and  Drusus  were  already  standing  on  the  western  parapet. 
The  lictors  and  soldiers  were  on  them  in  an  instant.  The  blow 
of  on  3  of  the  fasces  smote  down  Antonius,  but  he  fell  directly 
into  the  vessel  beneath  —  stunned  but  safe.  A  soldier  caught 
Agias  by  the  leg  to  drag  him  doAvn.  Drusus  smote  the  man 
under  the  ear  so  that  he  fell  without  a  groan;  but  Agias  himself 
had  been  thrown  from  the  parapet  on  to  the  bridge ;  the  sol- 
diers were  thronging  around.  Drusus  saw  the  naked  steel  of 
their  swords  flashing  before  his  eyes ;  he  knew  that  the  barge 
was  slipping  away  in  the  current.  It  was  a  time  of  seconds, 
but  of  seconds  expanded  for  him  into  eternities.  With  one 
arm  he  dashed  back  a  lictor,  with  the  other  cast  Agias — he 
never  knew  whence  came  that  strength  which  enabled  him  to 
do  the  feat  —  over  the  stonework,  and  into  the  arms  of  Curio 
in  the  receding  boat.  Then  he  himself  leaped.  A  rude  hand 
caught  his  cloak.  It  was  torn  from  his  back.  A  sword 
whisked  past  his  head  —  he  never  learned  how  closely.  He 
was  in  the  air,  saw  that  the  barge  was  getting  away,  and 
next  he  was  chilled  by  a  sudden  dash  of  water  and  Cselius  was 
dragging  him  aboard ;  he  had  landed  under  the  very  stern  of 
the  barge.  Struggling  in  the  water,  weighed  down  by  their 
armour,  were  several  soldiers  who  had  leaped  after  him  and 
had  missed  their  distance  completely. 

The  young  man  clambered  on  to  the  rude  vessel.  Its  crew 
(two  simple,  harmless  peasants)  were  cowering  among  the 
lumber.  Curio  had  seized  one  of  the  paddles  and  was  guiding 
the  craft  out  into  the  middle  of  the  current;  for  the  soldiers 
were  already  running  along  the  wharves  and  preparing  to  fling 


THE   SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY  295 

their  darts.  The  other  men,  who  had  ust  been  plucked  out 
of  the  jaws  of  destruction,  were  all  engaged  in  collecting  their 
more  or  less  scattered  wits  and  trying  to  discover  the  next  turn 
of  calamity  in  store.  Antonius  -  who,  despite  his  fall,  had 
come  down  upon  a  coil  of  rope  and  so  escaped  broken  bones  and 
serious  bruises -was  the  first  to  sense  the  great  peril  of  even 
their  present  situation. 

"In  a  few  moments,"  he  remarked,  casting  a  glance  down 
the  river,  "  we  shall  be  under  the  Pons  Sublicius,  and  we  shall 
either  be  easily  stopped  and  taken,  or  crushed  with  darts  as 
we  pass  by.  You  see  they  are  already  signalling  from  the 
upper  bridge  to  their  guard  at  the  lower.  We  shall  drift  down 
into  their  hands,  and  gain  nothing  by  our  first  escape." 

"Anchor,"  suggested  Cassius,  who  was  an  impulsive  and 
rather  inconsiderate  man.  And  he  prepared  to  pitch  overboard 
the  heavy  mooring-stone. 

"Phui!  You  sheep,"  cried  Curio,  contemptuously,  mincing 
no  words  at  that  dread  moment.  "  How  long  will  it  be  before 
there  will  be  ten  boatloads  of  soldiers  alongside?  Can  we  beat 
off  all  Pompeius's  legions?" 

Antonius  caught  up  another  paddle  and  passed  it  through  a 
rower's  thong. 

"Friends,"  he  said,  with  that  ready  command  which  his  mili- 
tary life  had  given  him,  "these  soldiers  are  in  armour  and  can 
run  none  too  swiftly.  Once  show  them  the  back,  and  they  must 
throw  away  their  arms  or  give  over  the  chase.  It  is  madness 
to  drift  down  upon  the  lower  bridge.  We  must  turn  across 
the  river,  risk  the  darts,  and  try  to  land  on  the  farther  bank. 
Take  oars ! " 

There  was  but  one  remaining  paddle.  Drusus  seized  it  and 
pushed  against  the  water  with  so  much  force  that  the  tough 
wood  bent  and  creaked,  but  did  not  snap.    The  unwieldy  barge 


V:      . 


1    i  Ml 


i 
J 


296 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


sluggishly  answered  this  powerful  pressure,  and  under  the 
stroke  of  the  three  oars  began  to  head  diagonal2y  across  the 
current  and  move  slowly  toward  the  farther  shore.  The  sol- 
diers did  not  at  once  perceive  the  intent  of  this  move.  By 
their  actions  they  showed  that  they  had  expected  the  barge  to 
try  to  slip  through  the  Pons  Sublicius,  and  so  escape  down  the 
river.  They  had  run  some  little  way  along  the  south  bank 
of  the  Tiber,  to  reenforce  their  comrades  at  the  lower  bridge, 
when  they  saw  the  new  course  taken  by  their  expected  prey. 
Much  valuable  time  had  thus  been  gained  by  the  pursued, 
time  which  they  needed  sadly  enough,  for,  despite  their  fran- 
tic rowing,  their  unwieldy  craft  would  barely  crawl  across 
the  current. 

Loup:  before  the  barge  was  within  landing  distance  of  the 
northern  bank,  the  soldiers  who  had  been  on  guard  at  the 
head  of  the  Pons  ^milius  had  regained  their  former  station, 
and  were  running  along  the  shore  to  cut  off  any  attempt  there 
to  escape.  Soon  a  whizzing  javelin  dug  into  the  plank  at 
Drusus's  feet,  and  a  second  rushed  over  Caelius's  head,  and 
plashed  into  the  water  beyond  the  barge.  Other  soldiers  on 
the  now  receding  southern  bank  were  piling  into  a  light  skiff 
to  second  their  comrades'  efforts  by  a  direct  attack  on  the 
fugitives. 

A  third  dart  grazed  Antonius's  hair  and  buried  its  head  in 
the  pile  of  lumber.  The  tribune  handed  his  oar  to  Cselius,  and, 
deliberately  wresting  the  weapon  from  the  timber,  flung  it  back 
with  so  deadly  an  aim  that  one  pursuing  legionary  went  down, 
pierced  through  the  breastplate.  The  others  recoiled  for  an 
instant,  and  no  more  javelins  were  thrown,  which  was  some 
slight  gain  for  the  pursued. 

It  seemed,  however,  that  the  contest  could  have  only  a  single 
ending.     The  soldiers  were  running  parallel  and  apace  with 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY  297 

the  barge,  which  was  now  as  close  to  the  northern  bank  as  was 
^fe  m  v.ew  of  the  missiles.     The  Pons  Sublicius  was  getting 

rt^  T""'"  ^''''^'  "°^  "P^'^ ''  '^^^^  be  seen  a  consider 
able  body  of  troops  ready  with  darts  and  grapnels  to  cut  off  the 
Jast  nope  of  escape, 

w.!^)!  ^"^^"^  "'"''  ''''^^''''  ^''  '^'  ^^^"^  *h«  line  of  dark 
weatherbeaten  warehouses  that  stretched  down  to  th.  river's 
edge  on  the  north  bank  just  above  the  Pons  Sublicius. 

Kow,    he  exhorted  his  companions,  "rowl  as  life  i«  dear! 
Row  as  never  before  I " 

And  under  the  combined  impulse  of  the  three  desperate  men 
even  the  heavy  barge  leaped  forward  and  a  little  eddy  of  fZ! 
ing  waves  began  to  trail  behind  her  stern.     Drusus  had  no  time 

Tf  'sti     T'  ":  ^"*'""'  '''  ^P^"^^  ^^J^*'^  ''  *^-  1-t  burst 
of  speed.     He  only  knew  that  he  was  flinging  every  rxjund  of 

deluded  on  making  the  broad  blade  push  back  the  water  a. 
^Pidly  as  possib  e.   Antonius,  however,  had  had  good  cause  for 
his  command     A  searching  scrutiny  had  revealed  to  him  that 
a  single  very  long  warehouse  ran  clear  down  to  the  river's  edee 
and  so  made  it  impossible  to  continue  running  along  the  bank' 
A  pursuer  must  double  around  the  whole  length  of  the  build- 
ing before  continuing  the  chase  of  the  barge.    And  for  a  small 
quay  just  beyond  this  warehouse  Antonius  headed  his  clumsy 
vessel.    The  soldiers  continued  their  chase  up  to  the  very  walls 

sto.  n!7r  '  "^'''  *^'^'  °'  ^  ^"^'^^°'  ^°^"d  themselves 

vIlS  I  "^  .^"^P^'^^^^^ble  barrier.  They  lost  an  instant  of 
vahiab le  time  m  trying  to  wade  along  the  bank,  where  the 
channel  she  ved  off  rapidly,  and,  finding  the  attempt  useless, 
dashed  a  volley  of  their  missiles  after  the  barge.    But  the  raug^ 

The  soldiers  disappeared  behind  the  warehouse,  still  running 


III 


' 

!  ■ 

r 

t 

V! 

298 


A  FRIEND  OF  CIJSAR 


at  a  headlong  pace.  Before  they  reappeared  on  the  other  side, 
Antonius  had  brought  his  craft  to  the  quay.  There  was  no  time 
for  mooring,  and  the  instant  the  barge  lost  way  the  hard-pressed 
Caesarians  were  on  shore.  Another  instant,  and  the  clumsy 
vessel  had  been  caught  by  the  current,  and  swung  out  into  the 
stream. 

She  had  done  her  work.  The  pursued  men  broke  into  a  dash 
for  the  nearest  highway.  The  soldiers  were  close  after  them. 
But  they  had  flung  away  their  javelins,  and  what  with  their 
heavy  armour  and  the  fatigue  of  running  were  quite  as  exhausted 
as  the  Caesarians,  three  of  whom  had  been  thoroughly  winded 
by  their  desperate  rowing.  On  the  Pons  Sublicius,  where  a 
great  crowd  had  gathered  to  watch  the  exciting  chase,  there  was 
shouting  and  tumult.  No  doubt  voices  few  enough  would  have 
been  raised  for  the  Caesarians  if  they  had  been  captured;  but, 
now  that  they  bade  fair  to  escape,  the  air  was  thick  with  gibes 
at  the  soldiers,  and  cries  of  encouragement  to  the  pursued.  On 
the  two  parties  ran.  Soon  they  were  plunged  in  the  tortuous, 
dirty  lanes  of  the  "Trans-Tiber"  district,  rushing  at  frantic 
speed  past  the  shops  of  dirty  Jews  and  the  taverns  of  noisy 
fishermen  and  sailors.  Already  news  of  the  chase  had  gone 
before  them,  and,  as  Brusus  followed  his  friends  under  the 
half-arching  shadows  of  the  tall  tenement  houses,  drunken 
pedlers  and  ribald  women  howled  out  their  wishes  of  success, 
precisely  as  though  they  were  in  a  race-course.  Now  the  dirty 
streets  were  left  behind  and  the  fatigued  runners  panted  up  the 
slopes  of  the  Janiculum,  toward  the  gardens  of  Caesar.  They 
passed  the  little  grove  sacred  to  the  Furies,  and,  even  as  for  life 
he  ran,  Drusus  recalled  with  shame  how  over  this  very  road, 
to  this  very  grove,  had  fled  Caius  Gracchus,  the  great  tribune 
of  the  people,  whom  Drusus's  own  great  grandfather,  Marcus 
Livius  Drusus,  had  hounded  to  his  death;  that  day  when  all 


THE  SEVENTH  OF  JANUARY  299 

men  encouraged  him  aa  he  ran,  but  none  would  raise  a  hand 
to  aid. 

But  now  up  from  the  bridge  came  the  thunder  of  horses* 
hoofs,  -cavalry,  tearing  at  a  furious  gallop.     Pompeius  had 
evidently  ordered  out  a  turma'  of  mounted  men  to  chase  down 
the  runaways.     More  and  more  frantic  the  race  — Drusus's 
tongu    hung  from  his  mouth  like  a  dog's.    He  flew  past  a 
runmufe   ountain,  and  was  just  desperate  enough  to  wonder  if 
It  was  safe  to  stop  one  instant  and  touch  — he  would  not  ask 
to  drink  —  one  drop  of  the  cool  water.    Fortunately  the  C»sa- 
rians  -vere  all  active  young  men,  of  about  equal  physical  powers, 
and  they  kept  well  together  and  encouraged  one  another,  not 
by  word -they  had  no  breath  for  that -but  by  interchange 
of  courage  and  sympathy  from  eye  to  eye.     The  heavy  legion- 
aries had  given  up  the  chase;  it  was  the  cavalry,  now  flying 
almost  at  their  very  heels,  that  urged  them  to  their  final  burst 
of  speed. 

At  last!  Here  were  the  gardens  of  Caesar,  and  close  by  the 
roadway  under  a  spreading  oak,  their  grooms  holding  them  in 
readiness  for  instant  service,  were  six  of  the  best  specimens 
of  horseflesh  money  could  command. 

None  of  the  little  party  had  breath  left  to  speak  a  word.  To 
fling  themselves  into  the  saddles,  to  snatch  the  reins  from  the 
attendants'  hands,  to  plunge  the  heels  of  their  sandals,  in  lieu 
of  spurs,  into  the  flanks  of  their  already  restless  steeds,— these 
things  were  done  in  an  instant,  but  none  too  soon.  For,  almost 
as  the  six  riders  turned  out  upon  the  road  to  give  head  to  their 
horses,  the  cavalry  were  upon  them.  The  foremost  rider  sent 
his  lance  over  Curio's  shoulder,  grazing  the  skin  and  starting 
blood;  a  second  struck  with  his  short  sword  at  Callus's  steed, 
but  the  horse  shied,  and  before  the  blow  could  be  repeated  the 

1  Squadron  of  30  hone. 


I 


300 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


frightened  beast  had  taken  a  great  bound  ahead  and  out  of 
danger.  This  exciting  phase  of  the  pursuit,  however,  was  of 
only  momentary  duration.  The  horses  of  the  Ceesarians  were 
so  incomparably  superior  to  the  common  army  hacks  of  the 
soldiers,  that,  as  soon  as  the  noble  blooded  animals  began  to 
stretch  their  long  limbs  on  the  hard  Roman  road,  the  troopers 
dropped  back  to  a  harmless  distance  in  the  rear.  The  cavalry- 
men's horses,  furthermore,  had  been  thoroughly  winded  by  the 
fierce  gallop  over  the  bridge,  and  now  it  was  out  of  the  question 
for  them  to  pursue.  Before  the  flight  had  continued  a  mile, 
the  Caesarians  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  their  enemies  draw 
rein,  then  turn  back  to  the  city.  The  friends,  however,  did  not 
check  their  pace  until,  safe  beyond  chance  of  overtaking,  they 
reined  in  at  an  hospitable  tavern  in  the  old  Etruscan  town  of 
Veil. 

Here  Brusus  took  leave  of  Agias. 

"You  are  quite  too  unimportant  an  enemy,"  said  he  to  the 
young  Greek,  "to  be  worth  arrest  by  the  co'-cnls,  if  indeed 
they  know  what  part  you  have  had  in  our  escape.  I  know  not 
what  perils  are  before  me,  and  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  to 
share  them.  You  have  long  ago  paid  off  any  debt  of  gratitude 
that  you  owed  me  and  mine  when  Fabia  saved  your  life.  I  am 
your  patron  no  longer;  go,  and  live  honourably,  and  you  will 
find  deposited  with  Flaccus  a  sum  that  will  provide  for  all  vour 
needs.  If  ever  I  return  to  Rome,  my  party  victorious,  myst-if 
in  favour,  then  let  us  renew  our  friendship;  but  till  then  you 
and  I  meet  no  more." 

Agias  knelt  and  kissed  Drusus's  robe  in  a  semi-Orientai 
obeisance. 

"And  is  there  nothing,"  he  asked  half  wistfully  at  the  part- 
ing, "that  I  can  yet  do  for  you?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Drusus,  "except  to  see  that  no  harm  come 


THE  SEVENTH  OP  JANUARY  aoj 

to  n.y  Aunt  Fabia,  and  if  it  be  possible  deliver  Cornelia  from 
the  clutches  of  her  bloody  uncle." 

be  not  troubled,  domine,"-he  spoke  as  if  Drusus  was  stil 
his  master,  -  " I  will  find  a  way." 

J^^'  «;^°^°S,  ""der  the  canopy  of  night,  the  five  C^sarians 
spe  Wt  as  the.  horses  could  bear  them,  on  their  way  to 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THE  BUBICON 


It  was  growing  late,  but  the  proconsul  apparently  was  mani- 
festing no  impatience.  All  the  afternoon  he  had  been  trans- 
acting the  routine  business  of  a  provincial  governor — listening 
to  appeals  to  his  judgment  seat,  signing  requisitions  for  tax 
imposts,  making  out  commissions,  and  giving  undivided  atten- 
tion to  a  multitude  of  seeming  trifles.  Only  Decimus  Mamercus, 
the  young  centurion,  -  elder  son  of  the  veteran  of  Prsneste,— 
who  stood  guard  at  the  doorway  of  the  public  office  of  the  prte- 
torium,  thought  he  could  observe  a  hidden  nervousness  and  a 
still  more  concealed  petulance  in  his  superior's  manner  that  be- 
tokened anxiety  and  a  desire  to  be  done  with  the  routine  of  the 
day.  Finally  the  last  litigant  departed,  the  governor  descended 
from  the  curule  chair,  the  guard  saluted  as  he  passed  out  to  his 
own  private  rooms,  and  soon,  as  the  autumn  darkness  began  to 
steal  over  the  cantonment,  nothing  but  the  call  of  the  sentries 
broke  the  calm  of  the  advancing  night. 

Caesar  was  submitting  to  the  attentions  of  his  slaves,  who 
were  exchanging  his  robes  of  state  for  the  comfortable  evening 
synthesis.  But  the  proconsul  was  in  no  mood  for  the  publicity 
of  the  evening  banquet.  When  his  chief  freedman  announced 
that  the  invited  guests  had  assembled,  the  master  bade  him  go 
to  the  company  and  inform  them  that  their  host  was  indisposed, 
and  wished  them  to  make  merry  without  him.  The  evening 
advanced.     Twice  Caesar  touched  to  his  lips  a  cup  of  spiced 

808 


THE  RUBICON 


303 


wine,  but  partook  of  nothing  else.  Sending  his  serrants  from 
his  chamlr i,  he  alterrately  read,  and  wrote  nervously  on  his 
tablets,  th  -u  » rased  all  that  he  had  inscribed,  and  paced  up 
and  down  the  room.  Presently  the  anxious  head-freedman 
thrust  his  ueau  luio  Ihe  apartment. 

"My  lord,  it  is  past  midnight.  The  guests  have  long 
departed.  There  will  be  serious  injury  done  your  health,  if 
you  take  no  food  and  rest." 

"My  good  Antiochus,"  replied  the  proconsul,  "you  are  a 
faithful  friend." 

The  freedman  — an  elderly,  half-Hellenized  Asiatic  — knelt 
and  kissed  the  Roman's  robe. 

"My  lord  knows  that  I  would  die  for  him." 

"I  believe  you,  Antiochus.  The  gods  know  I  never  needed 
a  friend  more  than  now!     Do  not  leave  the  room." 

The  general's  eyes  were  glittering,  his  cheeks  flushed  with 
an  unhealthy  colour.     The  freedman  was  startled. 

"Doraine,  domine!"  he  began,  "you  are  not  well  — let  me 
send  for  Calchas,  the  physician;  a  mild  sleeping  powder—" 

For  the  first  time  in  his  long  service  of  Ca;sar,  Antiochus 
met  with  a  burst  of  wrath  from  his  master. 

"  Vagabond !  Do  you  think  a  sleeping  potion  will  give  peace 
to  me?    Speak  again  of  Calchas,  and  I'll  have  you  crucified!  " 

"Domine,  domine!"  cried  the  trembling  freedman;  but 
CtEsar  swept  on :  — 

"  Don't  go  from  the  room !  I  am  desperate  to-night.  I  may 
lay  violent  hands  on  myself.  Why  should  I  not  ask  you  for  a 
poisoned  dagger?  " 

Antiochus  cowered  at  his  master's  feet. 

"Yes,  why  not?  What  have  I  to  gain  by  living?  J  have 
won  some  little  fame.  I  have  conquered  all  Gaul.  I  have  in- 
vaded Britain.     I  have  made  the  Germans  tremble.     Life  is 


304 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


an  evil  dream,  a  nightmare,  a  frightful  delusion.  Death  ia 
Teal.  Sleep  — sleep  — forever  sleep!  No  care,  no  ambition, 
no  vexation,  no  anger,  no  sorrow.  Cornelia,  the  wife  cf  my 
love,  is  asleep.  Julia  is  asleep.  All  that  I  loved  sleep.  Why 
not  I  also?" 

"Domine,  speak  not  sol"  and  Antiochus  clasped  the  pro- 
consul's knees. 

Caesar  bent  down  and  lifted  him  up  by  the  hand.  When  he 
spoke  again,  the  tone  was  entirely  changed. 

"Old  friend,  you  have  known  me;  have  loved  me.  You 
were  my  pedagogue »  when  I  went  to  school  at  Rome.  You 
taught  me  to  ride  and  fence  and  wrestle.  You  aided  me  to 
escape  the  myrmidons  of  Sui!a.  You  were  with  me  in  Greece. 
You  shared  my  joy  in  my  political  successes,  my  triumphs  in 
the  field.  And  now  what  am  I  to  do?  You  know  the  last 
advices  from  Rome;  you  know  the  determination  of  the  con- 
suls to  work  my  ruin.  To-day  no  news  has  come  at  all,  and 
for  us  no  news  is  the  worst  of  news." 

"Domine,"  said  Antiochus,  wiping  his  eyes,  "I  cannot 
dream  that  the  Senate  and  Pompeius  will  deny  you  your  right 
to  the  second  consulship." 

"But  if  they  do?  You  know  what  Curio  reports.  What 
then?" 

Antiochus  shook  his  head. 

"  It  would  mean  war,  bloody  war,  the  upturning  of  the  whole 
world!" 

"War,  or  —  "  and  Csesar  paused. 
"What,  my  lord?"  said  the  freedman. 
"I  cease  either  to  be  a  care  to  myself  or  my  enemies." 
"I  do  not  understand  you,  domine,"  ventured  Antiochus, 
turning  pale. 

» Slave  who  looked  after  the  welfare  und  conduct  of  a  schoolboy. 


THE  RUBICON  305 

«I  mean,  good  friend,"  said  the  proconsul,  calmly,  "that 
when  I  consider  how  little  life  often  seems  worth.  iLd  how 
much  disaster  the  continuance  of  my  act  of  living  means  to 
my  fellow-men,  I  feel  often  that  I  have  no  right  to  live  » 

Antiochus  staggered  with  dread.     C^sar  was  no  longer  talk- 
ing wildly;  and  the  freedman  knew  that  when  in  a  calm  mood 
the  proconsul  was  always  perfectly  serious. 
''Domiue,  you  have  not  rashly  determined  this?"  he  hinted 
I  have  determined  nothing.      I  never  rashly  determine 
anything.     Hark!     Some  one  is  at  the  door  » 
There  was  a  loud  military  knock,  and  the  clang  of  armour. 

il-nter,"  commanded  C«sar. 
De^imus  Mamercus  hastened  into  the  room.    So  great  was 
his  excitement  that  his  Roman  discipline  had  forsaken  him 
He  neglected  to  salute. 

"News!  news!   Imperator!   from  Rome!     News  which  will 
set  all  Italv  afire ! " 

Wher .  .he  man  who  had  but  just  before  been  talking 

ot  suicid..  the  greatest  possible  deliberation  seated  him- 

wt?""  Vr'';^ '''  '"'""'  "^^^'^  ^"^  ^^-^'  ^"^  re^^arked 
with  perfect  coldness :  — 

geZri."^'*^^^'  '"''  ^"""^'^^  ^  ''^^^''  "'  "^sleeting  to  salut.  his 
Decimus  turned  red  with  mortification,  and  saluted 
Now,"  said  Caesar,  icily,  "what  have  you  to  report?" 
Imperator,"  replied  Decimus,  trying  to  speak  with  unimpas- 
sioned  preciseness,  "a  messenger  has  just  arrived  from  Rome 
He  reports  that  the  Senate  and  consuls  have  declared  the 
Republic  in  peril,  that  the  veto  of  your  tribunes  has  been  over- 
ridden, and  they  themselves  forced  to  flee  for  their  lives  " 

C«sar  had  carelessly  dropped  a  writing  tablet  that  he  was 
tiolding,  and  now  he  stooped  slowly  and  picked  it  up  again 


itiUi 


I    i  \     !  - 


306 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


"The  messenger  is  here?"  he  inquired,  after  a  pause. 

"He  is,"  replied  the  centurion. 

"  Has  he  been  duly  refreshed  after  a  hard  ride?  "  was  the  next 
question. 

"He  has  just  come." 

"  Then  let  him  have  the  best  food  and  drink  my  butler  and 
cellarer  can  set  before  him." 

"But  his  news  is  of  extreme  importance,"  £•  jped  Decimus, 
only  half  believing  his  ears. 

"I  have  spoken,"  said  the  ^  r  -W,  sternly.  "What  is  his 
name?" 

"He  is  called  Quintus  Drusus,  Imperator." 

"  Ah ! "  was  his  deliberate  response,  "  send  him  to  me  when 
he  will  eat  and  drink  no  more." 

Decimus  saluted  again,  and  withdrew,  while  his  superior 
opened  the  roll  in  his  hands,  and  with  all  apparent  fixity  and 
interest  studied  at  the  precepts  and  definitions  of  the  grammar 
of  Dionysius  Thrax,  the  noted  philologist. 

At  the  end  of  some  minutes  Quintus  Drusus  stood  before 
him. 

The  young  Praenestian  was  covered  with  dust,  was  unkempt, 
ragged;  his  step  was  heavy,  his  arms  hung  wearily  at  his  side, 
his  head  almost  drooped  on  his  breast  with  exhaustion.  But 
when  he  came  into  the  Imperator's  presence,  he  straightened 
iiimself  and  tried  to  make  a  gesture  of  salutation.  Caesar  had 
risen  from  his  chair. 

"  Fools ! "  he  cried,  to  the  little  group  of  slaves  and  soldiers, 
who  were  crowding  into  the  room,  "do  you  bring  me  this 
worn-out  man,  who  needs  rest?  Who  dared  this?  Has  he 
been  refreshed  as  I  commanded?  " 

"He  would  take  nothing  but  some  wine  —  "  began  Decimus. 

"I  would  have  waited  until  morning,  if  necessary,  before 


THE   RUBICON 


307 


8eeu,g  h,m     Here!"  and  while  Caesar  apoke  he  ha«  led 

«if  „  T  .  , ""'''"'»"  '°'°  ""^  °"  '^'''  ^"d,  anticipating 
fte  nm,btot  slave,  ..,„ela,ped  the  travel-aoiled  p^nula  from 
Drnsn.  a  ahouldera  The  young  n,an  tried  to  ni  and  ahak" 
off  theae  mu>.atrat,ona,  but  the  proeonaul  gently  reatrained 
?2  ,t  '""^  '""''/""''^  ^  '-"d  -"  fte  curioua  retinue 
J^Tdrno^ner""'^  ^''"°"''"'  '^"'^'"''^'  '"«■""  "■'  ^  »-' 
"And  now,  my  friend,  "said  Caesar,  «niling,  and  drawing  a 

"Two  days  ago,"  gasped  the  wearied  messenger 
'i^eWe/"  cried  the  general,  "a  hundred  and  sixty  miles 
in^two  days!    This  is  incredible!    And  you  come  alone?" 

I  had  Andraemon,  the  fastest  horse  in  Rome.  Antonius, 
C«hus,  Cassius,  Curio,  and  myself  kept  together  as  far  a 
Clus.um.  There  was  no  longer  any  danger  of  pursuit,  no 
need  for  more  than  one  to  hasten."  Drusus's  sentences  ^ere 
comu.g  n.  hot  pants.  "I  rode  ahead.  Rode  my  horse  dead. 
Took  another  at  Arretium.  And  so  I  kept  changing.  And 
now_I  am  here."  And  with  this  last  utterance  he  stopped 
gasping.  i'i'^"* 

C^sar,  instead  of  demanding  the  tidings  from  Rome,  turned 
to  Antiochus,  and  bade  him  bring  a  basin  and  perfumed  water 

his  breafh'"'"   '  "'''"*'"'  '''  ^""'^  "^"  ^^^  ''''^'^'^ 

"You  have  heard  of  the  violence  of  the  new  consuls  and  how 
Antonius  and  Cassius  withstood  them.  On  the  seventh  the 
end  came.  The  vetoes  were  set  aside.  Our  protects  were  dis- 
regarded. The  Senate  has  clothed  the  consul  and  other 
lu-gistrates  with  dictatorial  power;  they  are  about  to  make 
Jjucius  Doraitius  proconsul  of  Gaul" 


H 


lii 


308 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAE 


<;: 


I 


•J^t 


"And  I?»  asked  Caesar,  for  the  first  time  displaying  any 
personal  interest. 

"You,  Imperator,  must  disband  your  army  and  return  to 
Rome  speedily,  or  be  declared  an  outlaw,  as  Sertorius  orCati- 
lina  was." 

"Ah! »  and  for  a  minute  the  proconsul  sat  motionless,  while 
Drusus  again  kept  silence. 

"  But  you  —  my  friends  —  the  tribunes  ?  »  demanded  the  gen- 
eral, "you  spoke  of  danger;  why  was  it  that  you  fled?  "     . 

"We  fled  in  slaves'  dresses,  0  Caesar,  because  otherwise  we 
should  long  ago  have  been  strangled  like  bandits  in  the  TuUia- 
num.  Lentulus  Crus  drove  us  with  threats  from  the  Senate. 
On  the  bridge,  but  for  the  favour  of  the  gods,  his  lictors  would 
have  taken  us.  We  were  chased  by  Pompeius's  foot  soldiers  as 
far  as  Janiculum.  We  ran  away  from  his  cavalry.  If  they 
hate  us,  your  humble  friends,  so  bitterly,  how  much  the  more 
must  they  hate  you! " 

"And  the  tribunes,  and  Curio,  and  Caelius  are  on  their  way 
hither?  "  asked  Caesar. 

"They  will  be  here  very  soon." 

"That  is  well,"  replied  the  proconsul;  then,  with  a  totally 
unexpected  turn,  "Quintus  Drusus,  what  do  you  advise  me 
to  do?" 

"I  — I  advise,  Imperator?"  stammered  the  young  man. 

"And  who  should  advise,  if  not  he  who  has  ridden  so  hard 
and  fast  in  my  service?  Tell  me,  is  there  any  hope  of 
peace,  of  reconciliation  with  Pompeius?" 

"None." 

"  Any  chance  that  the  senators  will  recover  their  senses,  and 
propose  a  reasonable  compromise?" 

"None." 

"  Will  not  Cicero  use  his  eloquence  in  the  cause  of  peace  and 
common  justice?" 


THE   RUBICON  ^ 

••I  have  seen  hi„.    He  dare  not  „pe„  his  „„„th.» 

the  wi:  .:^;:r'    «■'  '<•-'-.  «-n  W,  and  sou,  „,e.  to 

Drusus  nodded  sadlv      "«!«  i^^  ^i 

ascenda.,  the,  .ee^tar  no"  ^2^:  a^Ce^r  ""^ 
are  not  at  heart  your  enemies,  Imperator-  bTt  ;>.  ^^'.^^^^ 
to  be  led  by  the  winning  side  »  '         '^'^  ^^"  "^^^ 

"Warr;e'j^';'-P^^««^^^--'-turningtothecharge 
War!     repl  edDrusus,  with  all  the  rash  emphasis  of  youth 
Young  man,"  said  C^sar,  gravely  half  saL  «    i   . 
have  said  is  easv  to  nf f «.     n    ^     ,  '^'  ^^^*  ^^«ly»     what  you 

Brusu,  IsXt  ^^°" '"""'  "■"'  ™'  ""'  — '" 

"Let  us  grant  that  our  cause  is  most  iii«f     v        ^x.       . 
figbt,  we  destroy  the  Republic      Kiln  ^'"'  ^^  ^^ 

the  wreck  nf  fV..  n      ^P"^^'"'-     "  ^  conquer,  it  must  be  over 
tne  wreck  of  the  Commonwealth.     If  Pomoeius      n.  *i. 
terms.     I  dare  not  harbour  any  illusions      Th«~  .V      '""^^ 
-dure  the  farce  of  another  SulliL  r^rratj^;  ^1^ r 
A  permanent  government  by  on.  strong  man  ^lll  thT     , 
one  practicable  to  save  the  world  from  anarchy      H  ' 

realized  that?"  "om  anarchy.     Have  you 

"I  only  know,  Imperator,"  said  Drusus,  gloomily  -"that  nn 
future  state  can  be  worse  than  ours  to-daV   when  the  t' 
trates  of  the  Republic  are  the  most  grievou   de"  '^'''" 

Caesar  shook  his  head.  ^ 

"  You  magnify  your  own  wrongs  and  mine      Tf  r«« 
prompts  us,  we  are  worse  tha/xert;or  SuL     ThTIJ 
alone  can  tell  us  what  is  right  "  The  gods 

welr'tfhX'  "  do' ^„™:?  "1™"^"  *»^''  '-  ™  ^  » 
J    ctiidrgy,     ao  you  believe  there  are  any  sods?" 

Csar  threw  baok  his  head.     "Not  alwa.sfS^i;  .omenf 


310 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


I  do  r  elieve  in  them,  I  know!  And  now  I  know  that  gods 
are  gii      ng  us !  " 

"Whither?"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  starting  from  his 
weary  drowsiness. 

"  I  know  not  whither;  neither  do  I  care.  Enough  to  be  con- 
scious that  they  guide  us ! " 

And  then,  as  though  there  was  no  pressing  problem  involving 
the  peace  of  the  civilized  world  weighing  upon  him,  the  pro- 
consul stood  by  in  kind  attention  while  Antiochus  and  an 
attendant  bathed  the  wearied  messenger's  feet  before  taking 
him  away  to  rest. 

After  Drusus  had  been  carried  to  his  room,  Caesar  collected 
the  manuscripts  and  tablets  scattered  about  the  apartment, 
methodically  placed  them  in  the  proper  cases  and  presses,  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  undressed,  and  slept  late  into  the  following 
morning,  as  sweetly  and  soundly  as  a  little  child. 

II 

On  the  next  day  Caesar  called  before  him  the  thirteenth 
legion,  —  the  only  force  he  had  at  Ravenna,  —  and  from  a 
pulpit  in  front  of  the  praetoriun-  he  told  them  the  story  of 
what  had  happened  at  Rome ;  of  how  the  Senate  had  outraged 
the  tribunes  of  the  plebs,  whom  even  the  violent  Sulla  had 
respected;  of  how  the  mighty  oligarchy  had  outraged  every 
soldier  in  insulting  their  commander.  Then  Curio,  just  arrived, 
declaimed  with  indignant  fervour  of  the  violence  and  fury  of 
tin;  consuls  and  Pompeius ;  and  when  he  concluded,  the  veter- 
ans <^-ould  restrain  their  ardour  and  devotion  no  more,  five 
thousand  martial  throats  roared  forth  an  oath  of  fealty,  and 
as  many  swords  were  waved  on  high  in  mad  defiance  to  the 
Senate  and  the  Magnus.  Then  cohort  after  cohort  cried  out 
that  on  this  campaign  they  would  accept  no  pay;  and  the  mili- 


THE  RUBICON  311 

tory  tribunes  and  centurions  pledged  themselves,  this  officer 
for  the  support  of  two  recruits,  and  that  for  three 

It  was  a  great  personal  triumph  for  C*sar.  He  stood  leoeiv- 
ing  he  pledges  and  plaudits,  and  repaying  each  protestation  of 
loyalty  with  a  few  gracious  words,  or  smiles,  that  were  worth 
fafty  telents  to  each  acclaiming  maniple.  Drusus,  who  was 
standing  back  of  the  proconsul,  beside  Curio,  realized  that 
never  before  had  he  seen  such  outgoing  of  magnetism  and  per- 
sonal energy  from  man  to  man,  one  mind  holding  in  vassalage 

wine  ri"  /;'  1 T  ^" ''''  ^"^^^^^  --•  ^^-s 

while    he  p  audits  of  the  centuries  were  rending  the  air, 

Caesar  turned  to  the  senior  tribune  of  the  legion 
"Are  your  men  ready  for  the  march,  officer^" 
The  soldier  instantly  fell  into  rigid  military  pose.     "  Ready 

this  instant,  Imperatcr.     We  have  expected  the  order  " 

March  to  Ariminum,  and  take  possession  of  the  town. 

March  rapidly." 

aL^VT"""  ''^"'''^'  '°^  '''PP'^  ""^'^  ^"^°"S  h-  cohort. 
And  as  If  some  .   njurer  had  flourished  a  wand  of  magic,  in 

the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  first  century  had  formed  in  march- 
ing  order;   e  ^ry  legionary  had  flung  over  his  shoulder  his 
shield  aad  pack,  and  at  the  harsh  blare  of  the  military  trumpet 
the  whole  legion  fell  into  line;  the  aquili  er  with  the  bronze 
eagle,  that  had  tossed  on  high  in  a  score  o    hard-fought  fights 
swung  off  at  the  head  of  the  van;  and  away  went  the  legion   a 
thing  not  of  thinking  flesh  aud  blood,  but  of  brass  and  Ln- 
a  machine  that  marched  as  readily  and  car.dessly  against  the 
consuls  of  the  Roman  Republic  as  against  the  wretclfed  Galli 
insurgents.      The  body  of  troops  -  cohort  after  cohort  -  was 
vamshing  down  the  road  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  the  pack  train 
following  after,  almost  before  Drusus  could  realize  that  the 
order  to  advance  had  been  given. 


!l 


312 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


Caesar  was  still  standing  on  the  little  pulpit  before  the 
praetorium.  Except  for  Curio  and  Drusus,  almost  all  the  va.t 
company  that  had  but  just  now  been  pressing  about  him  with 
adulation  and  homafs  were  disappearing  from  sight.  For  an 
instant  the  Imperator  seemed  alone,  stripped  of  all  the 
panoply  of  his  high  estate.  He  stood  watching  the  legion 
until  Its  dust-cloud  settled  behind  some  low-lying  hills.  Then 
he  stepped  down  from  the  pulpit.  Beyond  a  few  menials  and 
Drusus  and  that  young  man's  late  comrade  in  danger,  no  one 
else  was  visible.  The  transaction  had  been  so  sudden  as  to 
have  something  of  the  phantasmagoric  about  it. 

Caesar  took  his  two  friends,  one  by  each  hand,  and  led  them 
back  to  his  private  study  in  the  prstorium. 

"The  army  is  yours,  Imperator,"  said  Curio,  breaking  a 
rather  opv  -sive  sUence.  «  The  newest  recruit  is  yours  to  the 
;.eath.'' 

"Yes,  to  the  death,"  replied  the  general,  abstractedly;  and 
his  keen  eyes  wandered  down  upon  the  mosaic,  seemingly 
penetrating  the  stone  and  seeking  something  hidden  beneath. 
"The  thirteenth  legion,"  he  continued,  "will  do  as  a  test  of 
the  loyalty  of  the  others.  They  will  not  fail  me.  The  eighth 
and  the  twelfth  will  soon  be  over  the  Alps.  Fabius  is  at 
Narbo  with  three.  They  will  check  Pompeius's  Spaniards. 
I  must  send  to  Trebonius  for  his  four  among  the  Belgae;  he  is 
sending  Fabius  one."  And  then,  as  if  wearied  by  this  reca- 
pitulation, Caesar's  eyes  wandered  off  again  to  the  pavement. 

Drusus  had  an  uneasy  sensation.  What  was  tiiis  strange 
mingling  of  energy  and  listlessness?  Why  this  soliloquy  and 
internal  debate,  when  the  moment  called  for  the  most  intense 
activity?  The  general  being  still  silent,  his  friends  did  not 
venture  to  disturb  him.  But  Antiochus  passed  in  and  out  of 
the  study,  gathering  up  writing  materials,  tableld,  and  books; 


THE  RUBICON  3J3 

.nd  pre„,„ay  Omsnn  heard  the  freedman  bidding  an  under- 

lated  floor  of  the  Imperator',  tent-abitof  luxury  that  C«,ar 
never  den,ed  himself  while  in  the  field.     Presently  the  p" 
consul  raised  his  eyes.     He  was  «mil,„„.  .1  ^ 

least  cloud  on  his  bL.  ^'  "■"'  ™  ■""  "" 

"There  will  be  some  public  games  here  this  afternoon  "  he 
remarked,  as  though  the  sole  end  in  view  was  to  mar  hei 
.^y  pleasant  to  his  guests:  "I  have  promised  the  good  peol 

p1  rhL!T.°  *»'«'-'*"»•.■-<'  --'  not  fail  to  hoLur'them 
Perhaps  the  sport  will  amuse  tou,  although  the  provineiat 
cannot  of  course  get  such  gooa  lanista-trained  menl  yo„  s 
at  Borne.     I  have  a  new  fencing  sch«>.  i„  which  perhap"  we 
may  find  a  few  arece.'  and  retiarii,'  who  will  give  somejl 
erabl  sword  and  net  play." 

fhi'lf  T'/IT"'  '^"'■'''  '"*  ^  Ingubrious  whisper,  "to 
thmk  of  ,t  I  have  never  a  sesterce  left  that  I  can  ca  1  my 
own,  to  stake  on  the  stniggle !  "  ^ 

Jf  f'V'  r'^"^^'^  ^'"'"''  "^  ^"^  ^  companion  of  your 
gnef ;  already  Lentulus  and  Ahenobarbus  have  been  sharing 
my  forfeited  estate."  ^ 

But  the  proconsul  looked  serious  and  sad 
"Fa^  my  friends!    Would  that  I  could  say  that  your  loyalty 
to  my  cause  would  cost  you  nothing!    It  is  easy  to  promise  to 
win  back    or  you  everything  you  have  aband  J,ed,  LTth: 
po  ts  say,  'All  that  lies  in  the  lap  of  the  gods.'    But  you  shall 
not  be  any  10.^^  r  the  mere  recipient,  of  my  bounty      Stern 
work  .before  us.     I  need  not  ask  you  if  you  wil/play  your 
part      You,  Cuno,  shall  have  a  proper  place  on  mv  sfaff  of 
legates  as  soon  as  I  have  enough  troops  concentrated;  but  you, 
'  P'^'ident  of  the  games^  ,  ^,,^,^^  ^^  ^^^,^  ^^^ 

'  Net  and  trident  men. 


If 
I 


314 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


3iy  dear  Drusus,  what  post  would  best  reward  you  for  your 
loyalty?  Will  you  be  a  military  tribune,  and  succeed  your 
father?"  ^ 

"Your  kindness  outruns  your  judgment,  Imperator,"  replied 
Drusus.  "  Save  repelling  Duninorix  and  Ahenobarbus,  I  never 
struck  a  blow  in  anger.  Small  service  would  I  be  to  you,  and 
little  glory  would  I  win  as  an  officer,  when  the  meanest  legion- 
ary knows  much  that  I  may  learn." 

"Then,  amice,"  said  Ciesar,  smiling,  perhaps  with  the  satis- 
faction of  a  man  wlio  knows  when  it  is  safe  to  make  a  gracious 
offer  which  he  is  aware  will  not  be  accepted,  though  none  the 
less  flattering,  "  if  you  will  thus  misappraise  yourself,  you  shall 
act  as  centurion  for  the  present,  on  my  corps  of  prcetoriani,' 
where  you  will  be  among  friends  and  comrades  of  your  father, 
and  be  near  my  person  if  I  have  any  special  need  of  you." 

Drusus  proffered  the  best  thanks  he  could;  it  was  a  great 
honour  — one  almost  as  great  as  a  tribuneship,  though  hardly 
as  responsible  ;  and  he  felt  repaid  for  all  the  weariness  of  his 
desperate  ride  to  Ravenna. 

And  then,  with  another  of  those  strange  r.Iternations  of 
behaviour,  Cajsar  led  him  and  Curio  off  to  inspect  the  fencing- 
school  ;  then  showed  thorn  his  favourite  horse,  pointed  out  its 
peculiar  toelike  hoofs,  and  related  merrily  how  when  it  was  a 
young  colt,  a  soothsayer  had  predic  ted  tliat  its  owner  would 
be  master  of  the  world,  and  how  he  — Cssar  — had  broken 
its  fiery  spirit,  and  made  it  perfectly  docile,  although  no  other 
man  could  ride  the  beast. 

The  afternoon  wore  on.  Caesar  took  his  friends  to  the 
games,  and  watched  with  all  apparent  interest  the  rather 
sanguinary  contests  between  the  .trladiators.  Drusus  noticed 
the  effusive  loyaltj   of  the  Ravenna  citizens,  who  shouted  a 

»  General's  body-guard  of  picked  veterans. 


THE  RUBICON  315 

tumultuous  welcome  to  the  illustrious  editor,  but  C^sar  acted 
precisely  as  though  the  presidency  of  the  si)orts  were  his  most 
important  office.     Only  his  young  admirer  obser  ed  that  as 
often  as  a  gladiator  brought  his  opponent  down  and  appealed 
U>  the  editor  for  a  decision  on  the  life  or  death  of  the  van- 
quished,  Caesar  invariably   waved  his  handkerchief,  a  siun 
of  mercy,  rather  than  brutally  turned  down  his  thumb,  the 
sentence  of  death.      After  the  games,   the  proconsul  inter- 
changed personal  greetings  with  the  more  prominent  towns- 
people.    Drusus  began  to  wonder  whether  the  whole  day  and 
evening  were  to  pass  in  this  manner;  and  indeed  so  it  seemed, 
for  that  night  the  Imperator  dispensed  his  usual  open-hande.i 
hospitahty.  •  His  great  banqueting   hall  contained  indeed  no 
army  officers,  but  there  were  an  abtmdance  of  the  provincial 
gentry.     Caesar  dined  apart  with  his  two  friends.     The  courses 
went  in  and  out.     The  proconsul  continued  an  unceasing  flow 
of  light  conversation:  witty  comments  on  Roman  society  and 
fashion,  scraps  of   literary  lore,  now  and  then  a  bit  of  per- 
sonal   reminiscenr-e  of  Gaul.     Drusus   forgot  all  else  in  the 
agreeable  pleasure  of  the  moment.     Presently  Caesar  arose  and 
mingled  with  his  less  exalted  guests  ;  when  he  returned  to  the 
upper  table  the  attendants  were  bringing  on  the  beakers,  and 
the  Cisalpine    provincials    were    pledging    one    another    in 
draughts  of  many  cyatJu,  "prosperity  to  the  proconsul,  and 
confusion   to  his   enemies."     Caesar  took  a  shallow  glass  of 
embossed  blue  and  white  bas-relief  work, -a  triumph  of  Alex- 
andrian  art,  -  poured  into  it  a  few  drops  of  undiluted  C*cu- 
ban  liquor,  dashed  down  the  potion,  then  dropped  the  price- 
less beaker  on  to  the  floor. 

"An  offering  to  Fortunu!"  he  cried,  springing  from  his 
couch.  "My  friends,  let  us  go!"  And  quietly  leaving  the 
table  on  the  dais,  the  three  found  themselves  outside  the  ban- 


316 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


queting  hall,  while  the  provincials,  unconscious  that  theii 
host  had  departed,  continued  their  noisy  revelry. 
Drusus  at  once  saw  that  everything  was  ready  for  departure 
.    Antiochus  was  at  hand  with  travelling  cloaks,  and  assured  the 
young  man  that  due  care  had  been  taken  to  send  in  advance 
for  him  a  complete  wardrobe  and  outfit.    The  proconsul  evi- 
dently intended  to  waste  no  time  in  starting.    Drusus  realized 
by  the  tone  of  his  voice  that  C«sar  the  host  had  vanished,  and 
Caesar  the  unperator  was  present.    His  words  were  terse  and 
to  the  point. 

"Curio,  you  will  fnd  a  fast  horse  awaiting  you.  Take  it 
Ride  at  full  speed  after  the  legion.  Take  command  of  the 
rear  cohorts  and  of  the  others  as  you  come  up  with  them. 
Lead  rapidly  to  Ariminum." 

And  Curio,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words,  when  few  were 
needed,  saluted  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  Drusus  fol- 
lowed  the  general  out  after  him.  But  no  saddle-horses  were 
prepared  for  Caesar.  Antiochus  and  one  or  two  slaves  were 
ready  with  lanterns,  and  led  the  general  and  Drusus  out  of  the 
gloomy  cantonment,  along  a  short  stretch  of  road,  to  a  mill 
bunding,  where  in  the  dim  light  of  the  last  flickers  of  day 
could  be  seen  a  carriage  with  mules. 

"I  have  hired  this  as  you  wished,"  said  the  freedman 
briefly.  ' 

"It  is  well,"  responded  his  patron. 

Antiochus  clambered  upon  the  front  seat;  a  stout  German 
flervmg-man  was  at  the  reins.  Caesar  motioned  to  Drusus  to  sit 
beside  him  behind.  There  were  a  few  necessaries  in  the  carriage, 
but  no  other  attendants,  no  luggage  cart.  The  German  shook 
the  rems  over  the  ba<;ks  of  the  two  mules,  and  admonished 
them  m  his  barbarous  native  dialect.  The  dim  shadow  of  the 
mill  faded  from  sight;  tJie  lights  of  the  pratorium  grew  dim- 


THE  RUBICON  gj^ 

mer  aad  dinmer:  soo„  nothing  was  to  be  seen  outside  the 
^w  crcl.  of  pale  light  shed  on  the  ground  ahead  by  1 

The  autumn  season  was  well  advanced.  The  day  however 
bad  been  warm.  The  night  was  sultry.  There  we«  n„'!^ 
above  no  moon,  no  wind.      A  siokening  miasmio  odo^  ^ 

the  smell  of  overripe  fruit,  of  decaying  vegetation,  of  the  bar- 

rose  thick  and  heavy,  making  tie  mules  and  travellers  cough 

not  the  least  sound :  save  the  creaking  of  the  dead  boughs  on 

he  rJ°'l  r  '"^'^  "°"'''  ^""  "•  di«'-guished  4aii^° 
the  sombre  background  of  the  sky.  -^ainsi 

No  one  spoke,  unless  the  incoherent  shouts  of  the  German 

o^ttie  miUes  be  termed  speech.    Antiochus  and  Caesar  we^ 

sunk  in  stupor  or  reverie.    Drusus  settled  back  on  the  cush. 

ions,  closed  his  eyes,  and  bade  himself  believe  that  it  was  all 

a  dream.    Six  months  ago  he  had  been  a  student  at  ItLs 

climbing,  in   holiday  sport,  the  marble  cone  of  Hymetius 

his  blood,  He  was  riding  beside  a  man  who  made  no  dij 
cla  mer  of  his  intention  to  subvert  the  constitution !  If  C^ar 
failed  be,  Pmsus,  would  share  in  "that  bad  emineuTe" 
awarded  by  fame  to  the  execrated  Catilinarians.  Wa,  it  1  was 
^  not  all  a  dream?  Connected  thought  became  impossiWe 
Now  he  w«  in  the  dear  old  orchard  at  PraenesteTtag 

m  Rome    Poetry,  prose,  scraps  of  oratory,  philosophy,  and  rule. 

of  rhetoric,  -  Latin  and  G«ek  inextricably  intermixH-id™ 

*  A  fluger-guessiug  game. 


^  its 


318 


A  FRIEND  OF  C2ESAR 


without  the  least  possible  connection,  raced  through  his  head 
How  long  he  thus  drifted  on  in  his  reverie  he  might  not  say. 
Perhaps  he  fell  asleep,  for  the  fatigue  of  his  extraordinary  rid- 
ing  still  wore  on  him.  A  cry  from  Antiochus,  a  curse  from  the 
German,  startled  him  out  of  his  stupor.  He  stared  about.  It 
was  pit«h  dark.  "  The  gods  blast  it ! »  Antiochus  was  bawling. 
"  The  lantern  has  jolted  out ! " 

To  relight  it  under  existing  circumstances,  in  an  age  when 
friction  matches  were  unknown,  was  practically  impossible. 

"Fellow,"  said  the  proconsul's  steady  voice,  "do  you  know 
the  road  to  Ariminum  ?  " 

The  driver  answered  in  his  broken  Latin  that  he  was  the 
slave  of  the  stable  keeper  who  I. ad  let  the  carriage,  and  had 
been  often  over  the  road,  but  to  go  safely  in  the  dark  was 
more  than  he  could  vouch  for.  The  only  thing  the  German 
saw  to  be  done  was  to  wait  in  the  road  until  the  morning,  or 
until  the  moon  broke  out  through  the  clouds. 

"Drusus,"  remarked  the  proconsul,  "you  are  the  youngest. 
Can  your  eyes  make  out  anything  to  tell  us  where  we  are  ?  » 

The  young  man  yawned,  shook  off  his  drowsiness,  and  stared 
out  into  the  gloomy  void. 

"  I  can  just  make  out  that  to  our  left  are  tall  trees,  and  I 
imagine  a  thicket." 

"  Very  good.  If  you  can  see  as  much  as  that  here,  it  is  safe 
to  proceed.  Let  us  change  places.  I  will  take  the  reins.  Do 
you,  Drusus,  come  and  direct  me." 

"Oh!  domine!"  entreated  Antiochus,  "don't  imperil  your- 
self to-night!  I'm  sure  some  calamity  impends  before  dawn. 
I  consulted  a  soothsayer  before  setting  out,  and  the  dove 
which  he  examined  had  no  heart  — a  certain  sign  of  evil." 

"Rascal!"  retorted  his  patron,  "the  omens  will  be  more 
favourable  when  I  please.    A  beast  wants  a  heart  — no  very 


THE  EUBICON  319 

great  prodigy!   men  lose  theirs  very  often,  and  think  it  slight 
disgrace.    Change  your  seat,  sirrah ! " 

Caesar  took  the  reins,  smote  the  mules,  and  went  off  at  so 
f unous  a  pace  that  the  worthy  Antiochus  was  soon  busy  invok- 
mg  first  one,  then  another,  member  of  the  pantheon,  to  avert 
disaster.  Drusus  speedily  found  that  the  general's  vision  was 
far  more  keen  than  his  own.  Indeed,  although  the  road,  he 
knew,  was  rough  and  crooked,  they  met  with  no  mishaps. 
Presently  a  light  could  be  seen  twinkling  in  the  distance. 

"We  must  get  a  guide,"  remarked  the  Imperator  decisively 
and  he  struck  the  mules  again. 

They  at  last  approached  what  the  r^lJike  discernment  of 
Caesar   pronounced  to  be  a  small  farmhouse  with  a  few  out- 
buildings.     But  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  arouse  the  drowsy 
countrymen,  and  a  still  more  difficult  task  to  convince  the  good 
man  of  the  house  that  his  nocturnal  visitors  were  not  brigands 
At  last  It  was  explained  that  two  gentlemen  from  Kavenna  were 
bound  for  Ariminum,  on  urgent  business,  and  he  must  furnish 
a  guide  for  which  he  would  be  amply  paid.    As  a  result,  the 
German  driver  at  last  resumed  the  reins,  and  sped  away  with 
a  fresh  lantern,  and  at  his  side  a  stupid  peasant  boy,  who  was 
almost  too  shy  to  m..ke  himself  useful. 

But  more  misfortune  was  in  store.  Barely  a  mile  had  they 
traversed,  before  an  ominous  crack  proclaimed  the  splitting  of 
an  axletree.    The  cheap  hired  vehicle  could  go  no  farther 

"'Tis  a  sure  sign  the  gods  are  against  our  proceeding  this 
night,"  expostulated  Antiochus;  "let  us  walk  back  to  the  farm- 
house, my  lord." 

Caesar  did  not  deign  to  give  him  an  answer.  He  deliberately 
descended,  clasped  his  p^nula  over  his  shoulders,  and  bade 
the  German  make  the  best  of  his  way  back  to  Ravenna.  The 
peasant  boy,  he  declared,  could  lead  them  on  foot  until  dawn 


tA 


'    I, 


•ma  t 


320 


A  FEIEND  OF  CAESAR 


The  freedman  groaned,  but  he  was  helpless.  The  guide 
bearing  the  lantern,  convoyed  them  out  of  the  highroad,  t<; 
stake  what  he  assured  them  was  a  less  circuitous  route:  and 
soon  had  his  travellers,  now  plunged  in  quagmires  that  in  day. 
light  wo,Jd  have  seemed  impassable,  now  clambering  over 
stocks  ^d  stones,  now  leaping  broad  ditches.  At  last,  after 
thoroughly  exhausting  the  patience  of  his  companions,  the 
wretched  fellow  confessed  that  he  had  missed  the  by-path,  and 
indeed  did  not  know  the  way  back. 

Antiochus  was  now  too  frightened  to  declare  his  warnings  con- 
firmed.   Drusus  liked  the  prospect  of  a  halt  on  these  swampy 
miasmic  fields  little  enough.    But  again  the  proconsul  was  all 
resources     With  almost  omniscience  he  led  his  companions 
through  blind  mazes  of  fallow  land  and  stubble  fields:  came 
upon  a  brook  at  the  only  point  where  there  appeared  to  be  any 
stepping-stones ;  and  at  length,  just  as  the  murky  clouds  seemed 
about  to  lift   and  the  first  beams  of  the  moon  struggled  out 
nto  the  black  chaos,  the  wanderers  saw  a  multitude  of  fires 
twinkling  before  them,  and  knew  that  they  had  come  upon  the 
rear  cohort  of  the  thirteenth  legion,  on  its  way  to  Arimiuum. 

The  challenge  of  the  sentry  was  met  by  a  quick  return  of  the 
watehword,  but  the  effusively  loyal  soldier  was  bidden  to  hold 
his  peace  and  not  disturb  his  comrades. 

"WTiat  time  is  it?"  inquired  his  general.  The  fellow 
replied  it  lacked  one  hour  of  morn.  C^sar  skirted  the  sleep- 
ing  camp,  and  soon  came  out  again  on  the  highroad.  There 
was  a  faint  paleness  in  the  east;  a  single  lark  sang  from  out 
the  mist  of  grey  ether  overhead;  an  ox  of  the  baggage  train 
rattled  his  tethering  chain  and  bellowed.  A  soft,  damp  river 
fog  touched  on  Drusus's  face.  Suddenly  an  early  horseman, 
commg  at  a  moderate  gallop,  was  heard  down  the  road.  In  thr 
stillness,  the  pounding  of  his  steed  crept  slowly  nearer  and 


THE  RUBICON  g^t 

^rTZt^t  """  "'°°"  O"  *«"■•  «™'  ae  holW 
Clatter  of  the  hoofs   upon   the  nlanka  nf  o  k  -^  J, 

"oppea.    Drusu.  felt  himself  ctaSed  bv  the  !     **•  .^^T' 
that  the  grasp  alm<»t  meant  pat         "^        "^  '"  "^""'^ 

,^^  _        ius  ear.       The  bridge,  the  river-we  have  reached 

consul -not  as  yet  rightly  deposed.    On  the  oZr      0„ 
.he  Outlaw,  the  Insurgent,  the  Enemy  of  htcott"  wl:: 
hand  IS  against  every  man,  every  man's  hand  agatolt  h^ 

iTu^st:  ^^^-^'p^^Muichiy,  shaiiicrrsh': 
.:t=:  r g:::itr„rhir„r:r4^^^^^^^^^^  - 

intend  to  cross,  why  send  th«  1.^  ^        '^  "'** 

invasion  9    w>,    r  ^^'^  °''^''  *°  commence  the 

invasion  ?    Why  harangue  them,  if  you  had  no  test  fo  r.i 
upon  their  loyalty  ? "  »      J'  "  aaa  no  test  to  place 

"Because,"  was  his  answer,  « I  would  nnf  fT,.      u 
indecision  throw  away  my  cianceTstr^"       ^'17°™ 
»n  be  recalled.    It  is  not  too  late.    NoW:K,ha   wZ' 
I  m  merely  m  a  position  to  strike  if  so  I  decide     No 
nothing  is  settled"  ''°-    •''°'  — 

Drusus  had  never  felt  greater  embarrassment.     Before  he 

ooy  remain  m  the  roadway,  and  had  led  the  young  man  down 
fte  embankment  that  ran  sloping  toward  the  river     Ztht 
was  growing  stronger  every  moment,  though  the  mfst    tU 
hung  heavy  and  dank.     Below  their  feet  the  slender  s"mm 
■t  was  the  end  of  the  season-ran  with  a  monotonous ^,7 


T  " 


Ml 


322 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


now  a^d  then  casting  up  a  little  fleck  of  foam,  aa  it  rolled  by 
a  small  boulder  m  its  bed.  ^ 

"I^perator,"  said  Drusus,  whUe  C^sar  pressed  his  band 
tighter  and  tighter,  «  why  advise  with  an  inexperienced  youne 
man  hke  myself  ?  Why  did  you  send  Curio  away  ?  I  have 
no  wisdom  to  offer ;  nor  dare  proffer  it,  if  such  I  had  " 

"Qumtus  Drusus,"  repUed  C^sar,  sinking  rather  wearily 
down  upon  the  dry,  dying  grass,  «if  I  had  needed  the  counsel 
of  a  soldier,  I  should  have  waited  until  Marcus  Antonius 
arrived;  if  I  had  needed  that  of  a  politician,  I  was  a  fool  to 
send  away  Curio;  if  I  desire  the  counsel  of  one  who  is,  as  yet 
neither  a  man  of  the  camp,  nor  a  man  of  the  Forum,  but  who' 
can  see  things  with  clear  eyes,  can  tell  what  may  be  neither 
glorious  nor  expedient,  but  what  will  be  the  will," -and  here 
the  Imperator  hesitated,  _« the  will  of  the  gods,  tell  me  to 
whom  I  shall  go." 

Drusus  was  silent ;  the  other  continued :  _ 
"Listen,  Quintus  Drusus.     I  do  not  believe  in  blind  fate 
We  were  not  given  wills  only  to  have  them  broken.    The 
function  of  a  limb  is  not  to  be  maimed,  nor  severed  from  the 
body     A  limb  is  to  serve  a  man ;  just  so  a  man  and  his  actions 
are  to  serve  the  ends  of  a  power  higher  and  nobler  than  he. 
if  he  refuse  to  serve  that  power,  he  is  hke  the  mortifying 
hmb,  -a  thing  of  evil  to  be  cut  off.     And  this  is  true  of  all 
of  us;  we  all  have  some  end  to  serve,  we  are  not  created  for 
no  pur^se."    Caesar  paused.     When  he  began  again  it  was 
m  a  different  tone  of  voice.     «l  have  brought  you  with  me, 
because  I  know  you  are  intelligent,  are  humane,  love  your 
country,  and  can  make  sacrifices  for  her;  because  you  are 
my  friend  and  to  a  certain  extent  share  my  destiny;  because 
you  are  to«  young  to  have  become  overprejudiced,  and  cal- 
loused  to  pet  foibles  and  transgressions.     Therefore  I  took 


THE   RUBICON  323 

bi?i;!^i^  r  a'?^  p"*  "^  *^'  ^"^  '^^^^^^'^  ^  *^«  last  possi. 

hie  instant.    And  now  I  desire  your  counsel." 

"How  can  I  counsel  pea^e ! "  replied  Drusus,  wanning  to  a 
sense  of  the  situation.  «Is  not  Italy  in  the  haLd  of  tyLt  ? 
Is  no  Pompeius  the  tool  of  coarse  schemers?  Do  they  not 
Wm  f.'  P7'"P*^°"«  ^^  confiscations  and  abolition  of  debt  ? 
WUl  there  be  any  peace,  any  happiness  in  life,  so  long  as  we 
call  ourselves  freemen,  yet  endure  the  chains  of  a  desr^tism 
worse  than  that  of  the  Parthians  ?  "  despotism 

"Ah!  amice!"   said  Caesar,  twisting  the  long  limp  graas 

The  o^^r      ""  '^  '   ^'"^^  *'^  "^'^^  ^'  ^^«  -bl-t  Romls 
wm  matr"'  °  ^^'"^-^-^-^d  institutions !    A  shock  that 

hilated!    East,  .est,  north,  south-all  involved_so  great  has 
our  Roman  world  become ! "  ^ 

"And  are  there  not  wrongs,  abuses,  Imperator,  which  cry  for 

ff rn    h"  "^T  ""f  *""  "^"^  ""^  ^^"-'  Carthage  has 
fallen ;  has  not  Rome  almost  fallen,  fallen  not  by  the  might  of 

W  enem.es,  but  by  the  decay  of  her  morals,  the'deg  „X  o 

her  sUitesmen?    What  is  the  name  of  liberty,  without  the 

themselves,  while  the  Republic  groans  ?    Is  it  liberty  for  the 

ot  a  handful  of  nobles  ?  " 
Caesar  shook  his  head. 

deckmahon,  Every  man  ha»  hi,  own  life  to  live,  his  own 
death  to  die.  Our  intellect,  cannot  assure  us  of  any  oliZ 
MS.  the  u^taut  that  breath  has  left  our  bodies.    It  is  t^enT 


324 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


^  we  had  never  hoped,  had  never  feared;  it  is  rest,  peace 
^mtus  Drusus  I  have  dared  .any  things  in  mj  life,  i  S 
Sulla;  It  was  boyish  impetuosity.  I  took  the  unpopular  and 
perilous  side  when  Catilina's  confederates  were  sent  to  their 
d^ths ;  It  was  the  ardour  of  a  young  politician.  I  defied  the 
rage  of  the  Senate,  while  I  was  pr»tor;  still  more  hot  mad- 

Nervii,  m  the  campaign  with  Vercingetorix ;  all  this  was  the 
mere  courage  of  the  common  soldier.     But  it  is  not  of  death  I 

Tnf 'f  ;>.  '  ^'''"^  "^  '^'  ^''"^  °^  ^^«1«'  or  d«-th  at  the 
hands  of  the  executioner,  should  I  fall  into  the  power  of  mv 
enemies.     I  fear  myself.  ^ 

"You  ask  me  to  explain?"  went  on  the  general, without 
pausing  for  a  question.  «  Hearken !  I  am  a  man,  you  are  a 
man,  oux  enemies  are  men.    I  have  slain  a  hundred  thousand 

^ZTt.  ■?'''V  ""''  '''  ^^  '""'y  ''^'^  *^«  ^--t  designs 
which  die  deity  wills  to  accomplish  .     ^hat  country  could  not 
be  executed!     But  then  my  mind  was  ac  rest.     I  said,  'Let 
these  men  die,'  and  no  Nemesis  has  required  their  blood  at  my 
haiids.    What  profit  these  considerations?    The  Republic  is 
nothing  but  a  name,  without  substance  or  reality.    It  is  doomed 
to  fall.    Sulla  was  a  fool  to  abdicate  the  dictatorship.    Why 
did  he  not  establish  a  despotism,  and  save  us  all  this  tormoil  of 
politics  ?    But  Lentulus  Crus,  Pompeius,  Cato,  Scipio-they 
are  men  with  as  much  ambition,  as  much  love  of  life,  as  myself 
The  Republic  will  fall  into  their  hands.    Why  will  it  be  worse 
off  than  inr.ine?    Why  shed  rivers  of  blood  ?    After  death 
one  knows  no  regrets.    If  I  were  dead,  what  would  it  matter 
to  me  If  obloquy  was  imputed  to  my  name,  if  my  enemies 
triumphed,  if  the  world  went  to  chaos  over  my  grave      It 
would^not  mean  so  much  as  a  single  evil  dream  in  my  perpetual 


m 


THE  RUBICON  ^35 

..^^T"  ""1  °°  ^°°^''  '^'^^^  °°  '^^  ^^^'^^  He  ^aa  pacing  to 
and  fro,  wxth  rapid,  nervous  steps, crushingthe  dry  twfgsZde^ 
his  shoes  pressing  his  hands  together  behind  his  back,  Uw 
and  unknitting  his  fingers.  '  '^""^^ 

Drusus  knew  enough  to  be  aware  that  he  was  present  as  a 

wrestle  with  his  own  misgivings.     To  say  something  to  sav 
anything,  that  would  ease  the  shock  of  the  contest -Ltw^ 
he  young  man's  compelling  desire;  but  he  felt  as  helpless  « 
though  he,  single  handed,  confronted  ten  legions 
Thev  rir  *f  "^«'.^,°^P«^-*°^'"  he  faltered,  "think  of  them  I 

abalnlttr     "''"^^"   They  trust  in  you.   Do  not 
aoanaon  them  to  their  enemies ! " 

Caesar  stopped  in  his  impetuous  pacings 
"  Loci!  here,"  he  exclaimed,  almost  fiercely,  "you  wish  to  h. 
happy.  You  are  still  ve,y  young;  life  i,  swe';.   You  WW 

attachment  for  my  cause.     You  will  live  to  repent  of  your 

.Ln  7  ^  ^"^  *'  "'""''"'  ''°  "•■>'  I  Wl  you,  and  you 
hall  ride  mto  Kome  the  hero  of  Senate  and  pL ler^i" 
consuls  will  be  to  you  all  smiles.  Pompeius  will  ca'nvass  to 
you  ,f  you  desire  to  become  a  candidate  for  curule  ofHcI 
Wore  you  reach  the  legal  age  limit.  Cicero  will  extol  yt 
namo  m  an  immortal  oration,  in  which  he  will  land  your  deed 

bemhus  Ahala.    Will  you  do  as  I  shall  bid  you  •' " 

Drusus's  eyes  had  been  riveted  on  those  of  the'general     He 
saw  that  at  CWs  side  was  girded  a  long  slendera:^  ert 

the  blade  halfway,  then  point  off  into  the  river  where  tt, 
water  ran  sluggishly  through  a  single  deep  mist-shaded  ^f 


1*1 
111 


'A 
t 

1 

1    1 

M 

1 1 

ft! 

« 
1 

e      ^ 

ia'^"s 

;« 

E 
^ 

■t", 

1.. 

d 

1 

■<i 


326 


A  FRIEND  OP  CMSAB. 


"Do  you  understand  ?  "  we  t  on  Casar,  as  calmly  as  though 
he  had  been  expounding  a  problem  of  metaphysics.  «  You  can 
take  this  ring  of  mine,  and  by  its  aid  go  through  the  whole 
legion,  and  obtain  the  best  horses  for  flight,  before  anything  is 
discovered.  Your  conscience  need  not  trouble  you.  You  will 
onlj  have  done  as  I  earnestly  requested." 

The  cold  sweat  started  to  Drusus's  forehead,  his  head  swam ; 
he  knew  that  it  was  more  than  tho  mist  of  the  river-fog  that 
drifted  before  his  eyes.  Then,  filled  with  a  sudden  impulse, 
he  sprang  on  the  general  and  wrenched  the  dagger  from  its 
sheath. 

"Here I »  cried  Caesar,  tearing  back  the  mantle  from  his 
breast. 

"There!"  cried  Drusus,  and  the  bright  blade  glinted  once 
in  the  air,  and  splashed  down  into  the  dark  ripple.  He  caught 
the  Imperator  about  the  arms,  and  flung  his  head  on  the  other's 
neck. 

"Oh!  Imperator,"  he  cried,  "do  not  desert  us.  Do  not 
desert  the  Commonwealth !  Do  not  hand  us  back  to  new  ruin 
new  tyrants,  new  wars!  Strike,  strike,  and  o  be  merciful' 
Surely  the  gods  have  not  led  you  thus  far,  d  no  farther! 
But  yesterday  you  said  they  were  leading  u..  To^ay  they 
still  must  guide !  To  you  it  has  been  given  to  pull  do«m  and 
to  build  up.  Fail  not!  If  there  be  gods,  trust  in  them!  If 
there  be  none  slay  me  first,  then  do  whatever  you  will ! » 

Caesar  shook  himself.    His  voice  was  harsh  with  command. 

«  Unhand  me !  I  must  accompUsh  my  own  fate ! »  and  then, 
in  a  totall"  different  tone,  "Quintus  Drusus,  I  have  been  a 
coward  for  .ue  first  time  in  my  life.  Are  you  ashamed  of  your 
general ?  " 

"I  never  admired  you  more,  Imperator." 
"  Thank  you.    And  will  you  go  aside  a  little,  please  ?    I  will 
need  a  few  moments  for  meditation." 


THE  EUBICON  ^ 

Diogenes  and  h«  .nb»  °''   "°^  "^^^-^"^  like 

The  eaet  was  overehotwitl,  *     ."""  ^™«  """B*'- 

he.  bienain,  inti^t!  ^  ^^  ;:;::iTant  "'"n' 

before.     The  wind  was  chasin..  in  /    ^^  "  °'°'°®''' 

a..  dHvin,  .,e  <„e«n;  rrn-thXri"""  tit 
were  springing  ont  of  the  gloom  the  thnl  ' 

in  the  boughs  „verhea<l,  and  50^,^  oltTh,     "'"  ■'"'°'^« 
Out  from  the  camn  tl..  h.    1  '^"'*  """  ">«'  morning  song. 

."arohi   the  CLe  IS"  "™  "^""^  "-^  '-'<""'  '"'  "" 
ButstiWlow^fIr°lr"  Tu""*  "'"  "■=  """B- 

walking,  now  motltsTZZt'lo?  n'-^'*""'-  ■'°" 
monologue.    Drusus  ojZ    ,      ,  "'^"''mg  in  indistinct 

peius,  z  t^r:;;   r  ^HrhLTi'"-"'^"'-''  "^''- 

toCatoiflcanl    <J„11,  ■     \  .    ,  ^         '    ^ »"»' show  mercy 

fallen,  w  at  I  puf^tt^',';  "*  """''''"    ^»  K^PuW- is 

,  wiidc  1  put  m  Its  place  must  not  fall  "    T},«n   „^4. 

long  pause,  « So  thi.  was  to  be  my  end  in  life      ,'\^^'''  ^ 
Commonwealth:    what    i.     ,   "7  ^"'^/'' ^'^^-t^  destroy  the 

,     wuac    IS    destined,    is    desHnp/l  i»     a    j 
moment  h.te.  B™us  saw  the  gene  J  comi^rpte  em'^u! 

«™ ;  there  we  can  find  refrelhmlnt "  "'" '"  ^""'- 

:^=ofTro:;^ra:x^r"--^- 

anxiety.     The   three  approached  the 


■Hi 


328 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


bridge ;  as  the;  did  so,  a  little  knot  of  officers  of  the  rear  cohort, 
Asimus  Pollio  a,,     others,  rode  up  and  saluted.     The  golden 


rim  of  the  £' 
Caesar  put  to> 
from  his  iivi 
general  tun 


ust  glittering  above  the  eastern  lowlands. 

ya  ^,he  bridge.     Drusus  saw  the  blood  recede 

s       iscles  contract,  his  frame  quiver.     The 

i  1.'  'is  officers. 

" Gentlem",.."  i,        ^d  q.-i.tly,  «  we  may  still  retreat ;  but  if 

we  once  pa.,  -;.:•.,    '  ,  .,,     ^^thing  is  left  for  us  but  to 

fight  it  out   ;   ar.iis." 

The  group  v  a.:  si]  ;  ■ ,  .-ach  waiting  for  the  other  to  speak.  At 
this  instant  a  ount.-!.,,..  piper  sitting  by  the  roadway  struck 
up  his  ditty,  aad  a  few  idle  soldiers  and  wayfaring  shepherds 
ran  up  to  him  to  catch  the  music.  The  man  flung  down  his 
pipe,  snatched  a  trumpet  from  a  bugler,  and,  springing  up,  blew 
a  shrill  blast.  It  was  the  "advance."  C*sar  turned  again  to 
his  officers. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "let  us  go  where  the  omens  of  the 
gods  and  the  iniquity  of  our  enemies  call  us !  Tlie  die  is  now 
cast  I " 

And  he  strode  over  the  bridge,  looking  neither  to  the  right 
hand  nor  to  the  left.  As  his  feet  touched  tlie  dust  of  the  road 
beyond,  the  full  sun  touched  the  horizon,  the  landscape  was 
bathed  with  living,  quivering  gold,  and  the  brightness  shed 
Itself  over  the  steadfast  countenance,  not  of  C^ar  the  Procon- 
sul, but  of  Caesar  the  Insurgent 

The  Rubicon  was  crossed ! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  PHOPITABLK  CAitEEK   OF   GABINIUS 

by  thnr  mad  exploit  Lad  dW  away,  D„„„„ri,  Z  ablH 

ate,y  ,a,e  and  r„,l::  MeTa Ltr'n,  Itf  '™°'  ^T'- 

,.rotoc.i„„a„d  profit  in  allying  tteM  Jlve'^t    «     L Tf. 
by  the  ...doubtable  lanist.     But  if  Do„no,i.::  a™ 

Of  this  noble  oompanv  PnhU,,.,  r^\.-   •  oflcarm 

Bean  had  30.^:^;  ^it  :r:^^^^^^^^  "^  'r'-  '^^ 

luxunes   that  .aue  h.  fonne;rfeV.  ^       ttT 

has  been  said,  he  had  become  sated  u-ith    .luu^e^er.  o 
amusement  and  vice ;  and  when  the     es     e      of  th7  T        . 
hardships  of  his    ,ew  career  was  ov.  T  ^^'"'^ 

hifl  i,  cf  k  .  ove  ,     e  discovered  that  he 

tol;      '"^"  *"  '"''  ^"^^  °'  •■  '^  '»  -^*  not  s«>n  g.': 

And  so  for  a  while  the  bandit,  .an^-d  o ^  -„       .  ■ 

infested  the  roads,  .topped  traveile^r   o "a^V'iroTtt""' 
purses,  or  .-rei,  da.shed  down  on  out'  -in  7  " 

tbey  plundered,  an.  left  burni,.:'.   T  -aoorrtr T^S 

329 


1^^  ii 


i  •'' 


330 


A   FRIEND  OP  CiESAR 


work.     Even  this  occupation  after  a  time,  however,  grew 
monotonous  to  Gabinius.    To  be  sure,  a  goodly  pile  of  money 
was  accumulating  in  the  hut  where  he  and  Dumnorix,  his  fel- 
low-leader,  made  their  headquarters;  and  the  bandits  carried 
away  with  them  to  their  stronghold  a  number  of  slave  and 
peasant  girls,  who  aided  to  make  the  camp    the  scene  of 
enough  riot  and  orgy  to  satisfy  the   most  graceless;    but 
Gabinius  had  higher  ambitions  than  these.    He  could  not 
spend  the  gold  on  dinner  parties,  or  bronze  statuettes ;  and 
the  maidens  picked  up  in  the  country  made  a  poor  contrast  to 
his  city  sweethearts.     Gabinius  was  plannmg  a  great  piece  of 
fiv^8»e.    He  had  not  forgotten  Fabia;  least  of  all  had  he  for- 
gotten how  he  had  had  her  as  it  were  in  his  very  arms,  and 
let  her  vanish  from  him  as  though  she  had  been  a  «  shade  "  of 
thin  air.    If  he  must  be  a  bandit,  he  would  be  an  original  one. 
A  Vestal  taken  captive  by  robbers!    A  Vestal  imprisoned  in 
the  hold  of  banditti,  forced  to  become  the  consort,  lawful  or 
unlawful,  of  the  brigands'  chief !    The  very  thought  grew  and 
grew  in  Gabinius's  imagination,  until  he  could  think  of  little 
else.     Dumnorix  and  his  comrades  trusted  him  almost  implic- 
itly ;  he  had  been  successful  as  their  schemer  and  leader  in 
several  dark  enterprises,  that  proved  his  craft  if  not  his  valour. 
He  would  not  fail  in  this. 

An  overmastering  influence  was  drawing  him  to  Rome.  He 
took  one  or  two  fellow-spirits  in  his  company,  and  ventured 
over  hill  and  valley  to  the  suburbs  of  the  city  on  a  reconnois- 
sance,  while  by  night  he  ventured  inside  the  walls. 

The  capital  he  found  in  the  ferment  that  preceded  the 
expulsion  of  the  tribunes,  on  the  fateful  seventh  of  January. 
Along  with  many  another  evikloer,  he  and  his  followers 
filched  more  than  one  wallet  during  the  commotionu  and 
tumults.    He  dared  not  show  himself  very  openly.    His  crime 


THE  PROFITABLE  CAREER  OF  GABINIUS    331 

had  been  too  notorious  to  be  passed  over,  even  if  committed 
against  a  doomed  Caesarian  like  Drusus ;  besides,  he  was  utteriy 
without  any  poUtical  influence  that  would  stand  him  in  good 
stead.  But  around  the  Atrium  Vestse  he  lurked  in  the  dark, 
spying  out  the  land  and  waiting  for  a  glimpse  of  Fabia.  Once 
only  h:--  eye  caught  a  white-robed  stately  figure  appearing  in 
the  doorway  toward  evening,  a  figure  which  instinct  told  him 
was  the  object  of  his  passion.  He  had  to  restrain  himself,  or 
he  would  have  thrown  off  all  concealment  then  and  there, 
and  snatched  her  away  in  his  arms.  He  saved  himself  that 
folly,  but  his  quest  seemed  hopeless.  However  weak  the 
patrol  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  there  was  always  an  ample 
watch  around  the  Atrium  Vestse. 

Gabiiiius  saw  that  his  stay  around  Rome  was  only  likely  to 
bring  him  into  the  clutches  of  the  law,  and  reluctantly  he 
started  ba*k,  by  a  night  journey  in  a  stolen  wagon,  for  the 
safer  hill  country  beyond  the  Anio.  But  he  was  not  utterly 
cast  down.  He  had  overheard  the  street  talk  of  two  equites 
whom  in  more  happy  days  he  had  known  as  rising  politicians! 

"I  hope  the  consuls  are  right,"  the  first  had  said,  "that 
Caesar's  army  will  desert  him." 

''Perpoi;'  responded  the  other,  «  your  wish  is  mine  !  If  the 
proconsul  really  does  advance,  nothing  will  stand  between  him 
and  the  city  !  " 

Gabinius  kept  his  own  counsel.  "  In  times  of  war  and  con- 
fusion,  the  extremity  of  the  many  is  the  opportunity  of  the 
few,"  was  the  maxim  he  repeated  to  himself. 

When  he  was  well  out  of  the  city  and  moving  up  the  Via 
Salaria,  the  trot  and  rattle  of  an  approaching  carriage  drifted 
up  upon  him. 

"Shall  we  stop  and  strip  them ?  »  asked  Dromo,  one  of  the 
accompanying  brigands,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 


*s» 


m 
ft 
•  ^' 


4i 


M 


■w, 


332 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


"Ay,"  responded  Gabinius,  reining  in  his  own  plodding 
draught-horse,  and  pulling  out  a  short  sword.  "Let  us  take 
what  the  Fates  send ! " 

A  moment  later  and  Servius  Flaccus  was  being  tumbled 
out  of  his  comfortable  travelling  carriage,  while  one  brigand 
stood  guard  over  him  with  drawn  sabre,  a  second  held  at  bay 
his  trembling  driver  and  whimpering  yulet,  and  a  third  rifled 
his  own  person  and  his  conveyance.  There  was  a  bright  moon, 
and  the  luckless  traveller's  gaze  fastened  itself  on  the  third 
bandit. 

"By  all  the  gods,  Gabinius!"  cried  Servius,  forgetting  to 
hsp  his  Greekisms,  "  don't  you  know  me  ?  Let  me  go.  for  old 
friendship's  sake ! " 

Gabinius  turned  from  his  task,  and  held  to  his  nose  a  glass 
scent-bottle  he  had  found  in  the  vehicle. 

"Ah!  amice,"  he  responded  deliberately,  «I  really  did  not 
anticipate  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  thus !  You  are  return- 
ing very  late  to  Rome  from  your  Fidena  villa.  But  this  is 
very  excellent  oil  of  rose ! " 

"Enough  (f  this,  man!"  expostulated  the  other.  "The 
jest  has  gone  quite  far  enough.  Make  this  horrible  fellow 
lower  that  sword." 

"Not  until  I  have  finished  making  up  my  package  of  little 
articles,"  replied  Gabinius,  "anl,"  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  «  relieved  your  fingers  of  the  weight  of  those  very  heavy 
rings."  "^ 

I'  Gabinius,"  roared  Servius,  in  impotent  fury, «  what  are  you 
doing  ?    Are  you  a  common  bandit  ?  " 

"A  bandit,  my  excellent  friend,"  waa  his  answer,  "but  not 
a  common  one;  no  ordinary  footpad  could  strip  the  noble 
Servius  Flaccus  without  a  harder  struggle." 

Servius  burst  into  lamentations. 


THE  PEOFITABLE  CAREER  OF  GABINIU8    333 
"My  box  of  unguents!  My  precious  rings !  My  money-bag  I 

"KeaUy  "  returned  the  robber,  «a  have  no  time  to  convince 
you  that  the  brigand's  life  is  the  only  one  worth  living  You 
do  not  care  to  join  our  illustrious  brotherhood?  No^  Well 
I  must  put  these  trinkets  and  fat  little  wallet  in  my  own  wagon' 
I  leave  you  your  cloak  out  of  old  friendship's  sake.  R^y 
you  must  not  blame  me.    Remember  Euripides's  line:  - 

"  •  Money  can  warp  the  judgment  of  a  God.' 
Thus  I  err  in  good  company.    And  with  this,  vale!» 

Flaccus  was  left  with  his  menials  to  clamber  back  into  his 
plundered  carnage.  Gabinius  drove  his  horse  at  topmost 
speed,  and  before  morning  was  saluted  by  the  remainder  of 
the  banditti,  near  their  mountain  stronghold.  Dumnorix  met 
him  with  news. 

"It  is  rumoured  in  th'e  country  tow..s  that  C«sar  is  driving 
all  before  him  in  the  north,  and  will  be  down  on  Rome  in  less 
days  than  I  have  fingers." 

Gabinius  clapped  his  hands. 

"And  we  will  be  down  on  Rome,  and  away  from  it.  before  a 
legionary  shows  himself  at  the  gates ! » 


li 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

HOW  P0MPEIU8  STAMPED   WITH   HIS  FEET 


A  MESSENGER  to  the  consuls  I  He  had  ridden  fast  and 
furious,  his  horae  was  flecked  with  foam  and  straining  on  his 
last  burst  of  speed.  On  over  the  Mulvian  Bridge  he  thun- 
dered; on  across  the  Campus  Martius;  on  tr.  the  Porta  Ratu- 
mena— with  all  the  hucksters  and  street  rabble  howling  and 
chasing  at  his  heels. 

"  News !    News  for  the  consuls  I " 

«  What  news  ?  »  howled  old  Laeca,  who  was  never  backward 
in  a  street  press. 

"Terrible!"  shouted  the  messenger,  drawing  rein,  "Caesar 
is  sweeping  all  before  him!  All  Thermus's  troops  have  de- 
serted him  at  Iguvium.  Attius  Varus  has  evacuated  Auxi- 
mum,  and  his  troops  too  have  dispersed,  or  joined  Caesar.  All 
the  towns  are  declaring  for  the  enemy.  Vah!  He  will  be 
here  in  a  few  days  at  most  1  I  am  the  last  of  the  relay  with 
the  news.    I  have  hardly  breathed  from  Eretum ! » 

And  the  courier  plunged  the  spur  into  his  hard-driven  mount, 
and  forced  his  way  into  the  city,  through  the  mob.  "Ceesar 
advancing  on  Rome ! »  The  Jewish  pedlers  took  up  the  tale, 
and  carried  it  to  the  remotest  tenement  houses  of  Janicuhim. 
The  lazy  street-idlers  shouted  it  shrilly.  L«ca,  catching  sight 
of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  just  back  from  Bai«,  and  a  little  knot 

884 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET    335 

of  kindred  spirits  about  him,  was  in  an  instant  pouring  it  aU 
in  their  ears.     The  news  spread,  flew,  grew.     The  bankers  on 
the  Via  Sacra  closed  their  credit  books,  raised  their  shutters, 
and  sent  trusted  clerks  off  to  suburban  villas,  with  due  orders 
how  to  bury  and  hide  weighty  money-bags.     The  news  came 
to  that  very  noble  lady  Claudia,  sister-in-law  of  the  consul, 
just  at  the  moment  when  she  was  discussing  the  latest  style' 
of  hairdressing  with  the  most  excellent  Herennia;  and  the 
cheeks  of  those  patrician  ladies  grew  pale,  and  they  forgot 
whether  or  not  it  was  proper  to  wear  ivory  pins  or  a  jewel-aet 
head-band,  at  the  dinner-party  of  Lucius  Piso  that  evening 
The  news  came  to  Lentulus  Cius  while  he  was  wrangling  with 
Domitius  as  to  who  should  be  Caesar's  successor  as  Pontifex 
Maximus  — and   those   distinguished   statesmen   found  other 
things  to  think  of. 

The  news  flew  and  grew.     The  noble  senators  overheard 
their  slaves  whispering,  —  how  it  was  rumoured  on  the  street 
or  in  the  Forum  that  Caesar  was  in  full  advance  on  the  city, 
that  his  cavalry  were  close  to  the  gates.     Ciesar  at  the  gates  ! 
Why  had  they   not  remembered  how  rapidly  he  could   ad- 
vance?    Why  had  they  trusted  the  assurance  of  the  traitor 
Labienus  that  the  legions  would  desert  their  Imperator  ?     Re- 
sist ?     By  what  means  ?     The  ^^alis  were  walls  only  in  name 
the  city  had  long  outgrown  them,  spreading  through  a  thou- 
sand breaches.    There  was  not  a  trained  soldier  this  side  of 
Capua,  whither  Porapeius  had  departed  only  the  day  before  to 
take  command  of  the  Apulian  legions.    C^sar  was  coming! 
Caesar  — whose  tribunes  the  oligarchs  had  chased  from  the 
Senate !    Ctesar  —  whom  they  had  proclaimed  a  rebel  and  pub- 
he  enemy  1    He  was  coming  like  a  second  Marius,  who  thirty- 
eight  years  before  had  swept  down  on  Rome,  and  taken  a 
terrible  vengeance  on  enemies  less  bitter  to  him  than  they  to 


im 


'1- 


I  1   fi 

I  ■  £     'ft' 

'^1 


I 

i 


i:  ij  :l 


3M 


A  FRIEND  OP  C^SAE 


tte  g«at  Julian  <■  Myrienium est-' ' had  been  th,  otjy  „„,, 
to  «e.T  plea  for  mercy.  And  would  Casar  now  J  "o« 
Wnuo^those  who  had  ain..d  to  Uaat  hi,  honour  ^dTC 

EToning  drew  on,  but  the  calamity  was  only  delayed 
There  waa  not  a  soldier  to  confront  the  invader.  ^^Tn 
that  n,ght  could  sleep.  Rich  and  poor  alike,  all  trembW 
To  their  .mag,nations  their  foe  was  an  ogre,  implar-aMe 
unsparmg.. Remember  how  it  was  in  Sulla-s  day^c^^ 
I«ca  to  Ahenobarbus.  "Remember  how  he  pro«,ribed  tet^ 
senators  and  sixteen  hundred  equites  with  one  stroke     A  to! 

little  hkely  to  say  a  good  word  in  your  behalf,  eh  ?  " 

The  gods  blast  your  tongue ! "  cried  the  young  man,  wring- 
.ng  his  hands  i„  terror,  for  that  Drusus  wodd  ruin  hZ  f, 
he^^ned  the  chance,  Lucius  had  not  the  least  doubt  iTlhe 

ell  r"!*""  "''^'"'  '"  ''"  '^  P""'"-  '^o-  "oniing 
came  everythmg  save  flight  seemed  suicide.  There  was  a 
great  government  treasure  in  the  Tempi,  of  Saturn.  The 
Sena^,  h3av„t«,  that  the  money  be  delivered  to  Pompels 

?h  vtftTe'  T.  "^/^--^-I  to  «e  away  a  deLus. 
They  left  the  great  hoard  under  mere  lock  and  key  -  a  present 
to  their  bitterest  enemy.      Then   h«o«n   «,.  "P™™' 

Hardlv  ,  ™.„  1,   1  J  ^       *°  sreat   exodus. 

Hardly  a  man  had  done  more  than  gather  a  few  valuables 
together:  property,  children,  wives-all  these  were  left  to 
where       "^'V.  ^^    "'    ^'"    ^""^    t"™"!    Camplit 

The  hs^.iven^hrtr;f'rc::X  Z  1'= 
merely  of  the  swiftest  flight.    Lentulus  Cms  fl«li  cL^! 

'  He  haa  got  to  di«. 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET    337 

cellus,  his  colleague,  was  close  behind;  Domitius  fled,  with 
his  sons;  Cato  fled,  ironically  exclaiming  that  they  would 
have  to  leave  everything  to  Pompeius  now,  "for  those  who 
c^  raise  up  great  evils  can  best  allay  them."    Favonius  fled 
whose  first  words,  when  he  met  the  Magnus,  were  to  command 
him  to  «  stamp  on  the  ground  for  the  legions  so  sorely  needed." 
P180,  Scipio,  and  many  another  fled- their  guilty  hearts  adding 
wings  to  their  goings.    Cicero  fled  -gazing  in  cynical  disgust 
at  the  panic  and  incompetence,  yet  with  a  sword  of  Damocles, 
as  he  beieved,  hanging  over  his  head  also.     «I  fear  that 
Caesar  will  be  a  very  Phalaris,  and  that  we  may  expect  the 
very  worst"  he  wrote  to  his   intimate   friend   Attic^,  who, 
safe  from  harm  and  turmoil,  was  dwelling  under  the  calm 
Athenian  sky.     A  great  fraction  of  the  Senate  departed  ;  only 
hose   stayed  who  felt  that  their  loyalty  to  the  advancing 
Imperator  was  beyond  dispute,  or  who  deemed  themselves  too 
msignifacant  to  fall  beneath  his  displeasure.     In  the  hour  of 
crisis  the  old  ties  of  religion  and  superstition  reasserted  them- 
selves.    Senators  and  magistrates,  who  had  deemed  it  a  polite 
avocation  to  mock  at  the  gods  and  deny  the  existence  of  any 
absolute    ethical   standards,   now,   before  they  climbed   into 
heir  carriages   for  flight,   went,   with   due  ritual,   into  the 
temples  of  the  gods  of  their  fathers,  and  swore  hecatombs  of 
milk-white  Umbrian  steers  to  Capitoline  Jove,  if  the  awful 
deity  would  restore  them  to  the  native  land  they  then  were 
quitting     And   as   they  went  down   from   the   temples  and 
hastened  toward  the  gates,  friends  and  clients  who  could  not 
join  their  flight  crowded  after  them,  sighing,  lamenting,  and 
moamng.     Out  over  the  Campagna  they  streamed,  this  com- 
pany  of  senators,  praetors,  consuls  -  men  who  had  voted  thrones 
to  kings,  and  decreed  the  deposition  of  monarchs;  whose 
personal  wealtii  was  princely,  whose  lineage  the  noblest  in  the 


•if 


9       *^ 


i  *f  ^ 


398 


A  FRIEND  OF  C.ESAB 


world,  whose  ancestors  had  beaten  down  Etruscan,  Gaul,  Sam. 
mte,  and  Carthaginian,  that  tlxeir  posterity  might  enjoy  the 
glory  of  unequalled  empire.     And  these  descendants  fled  fled 
not  before  any  foe,  but  before  their  own  guilty  consciences: 
abandoning  the  city  of  their  fathers  when  not  a  sword  had 
flashed  against  her  gates !    The  war  had  been  of  their  makmg  • 
to  send  Caesar  into  outlawry  the  aristocracy  had  laboured  ten 
long  years.    And  now  the  noble  Ms  were  exiles,  wanderers 
among  the  nations.    To  Capua  they  went,  to  find  small  comfort 
there,  and  thence  to  join  Pompeius  in  further  flight  beyond 
the  seas  to  Greece.     But  we  anticipate.     Enough  that  neither 
Lentulus  Cms,  nor  Domitius,  nor  Cato,  nor  the  great  Magnus 
himself,  ever  saw  Bome  again. 

II 

Agias  stood  in  a  shop  by  the  Sacred  Way  watching  the  stream 
of  fugitives  pouring  down  toward  the  Porta  Capena.    At  his 
side  was  a  person  whom  a  glance  proclaimed  to  be  a  fellow- 
Greek.     The  stranger  was  perhaps  fifty,  his  frame  presented 
a  faultless  picture  of  symmetry  and  manly  vigour,  great  of 
stature,  the  limbs  large  but  not  ungainly.     His  features  were 
regular,  but  possessed  just  enough  prominence  to  make  them 
free  from  the  least  tinge  of  weakness.    The  Greek's  long,  thick 
dark  but  grey-streaked  beard  streamed  down  upon  his  breast- 
his  hair,  of  similar  hue,  was  long,  and  tossed  baek  over  his 
shoulders  in  loose  curls.     His  iress  was  rich,  yet  rude,  his 
chiton  and  cloak  short,  but  of  choice  Milesian  wool  and  dyed 
scarlet  and  purple;   around  his  neck  dangled  a  t  ,     heavy 
gold  chain  set  with  conspicuously  blazing  jewels.    TLv  -mkles 
however,  w : -a  bare,  and  the  sandals  of  the  slightest  and  mean' 
est  description.    The  stranger  must  once  have  been  of  a  light 
not  to  say  fair,  complexion ;  but  cheeks,  throat,  ai-ms,  and  feet 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET     339 

were  all  deeply  bronzed,  evidently  by  prolonged  exposure  to 
wind  and  weather.  Agiaa  and  his  companion  watched  the 
throng  of  panic-struck  exiles.  The  younger  Greek  was  point- 
mg  out,  with  the  complacency  of  familiar  knowledge,  the 
names  and  dignities  of  the  illustrious  fugitives 

"Yonder  goes  Cato,"  he  was  saying;  "mark  his  bitter 
scowl!  There  goes  Marcus  Marcellus,  the  consular.  There 
dnves  the  chariot  of  Lucius  Domitius,  Cesar's  great  enemy." 
And  Agias  stopped,  for  his  friend  had  seized  his  arm  with  a 
sudden  grasp,  crushing  as  iron.  "Why,  by  all  the  gods, 
Demetrius,  why  are  you  staring  at  him  that  way  ^  » 

'-3y  Zeus ! »  muttered  the  other,  "if  I  had  only  my  sword  ! 
It  would  be  easy  to  stab  him,  and  then  escape  in  this  crowd  '  » 
"  Stab  him ! »  cried  Agias.  "  Demetrius,  good  cousin,  control 
yourself.  You  are  not  on  the  deck  of  your  trireme,  with  all 
your  men  about  you.  Why  should  you  be  thus  sanguinary 
when  you  see  Lucius  Domitius?  Why  hate  him  more  than 
any  other  Roman  ?  " 

The  consular,  unaware  of  the  threat  against  him,  but  with 
a  compelling  fear  of  Caesar's  Gallic  cavalry  lending  strength 
to  the  arm  with  which  he  plied  the  whip -for  the  law  against 
driving  inside  the  city  no  man  respected  that  day -whirled 
out  of  sight. 

Demetrius  still  strained  at  his  cousin's  arm. 

"  Listen,  Agias,"  he  said,  still  hoarsely.  "  Only  yesterday  I 
ran  upon  you  by  chance  in  the  crowd.  We  have  many  things 
to  tell  one  another,  chiefly  I  to  tell  you.  Why  do  I  hate 
Lucius  Domitius  ?  Why  should  you  hate  him  ?  Who  made 
you  a  slave  and  me  an  outlaw?  Your  father  died  bank- 
rupt; you  know  it  was  said  that  Philias,  his  partner,  ruined 
him.  That  was  truth,  but  not  the  whole  truth.  Philias  was 
under  deep  obligations  to  a  certain  Roman  then  in  the  East 


m 


H 


i'' 


S40 


A  FRIEND  OP  CiESAR 


^^ho  knew  of  several  crimes  Philias  had  committed,  crimes 
that  would  bring  him  to  the  cross  if  discovered.  Do  vou 
understand?"  ^ 

^J  Hardly,"  said  Agias,  still  bewildered.     « I  was  very  young 

"I  will  go  on.      It  was  shortly  before  Pompeius  returned 
to  Rome  from  the  East.     Your  father  had  charge  of  the  bank- 
ing firm  in  Alexandria,  Philias  of  the  branch  at  Antidch     I 
was  a  clerk  in  the  Antioch  banking-house.    I  knew  that  Philias 
was  misusing  his  partner's  name  and  credit.     The  Roman 
whom  I  have  mentioned  knew  it  too,  and  had  a  supple  Greek 
confidant  who  shared  his  spoils  and  gave  the  touches  to  his 
schemes.     He  had  good  cause  to  know :  he  was  levying  black- 
mail on  Philias.    At  last  a  crisis  came;  the  defalcation  could 
be  concealed  no  longer.     Philias  was  duly  punished;  he  was 
less  guilty  than  he  seemed.    But  the  Roman  -  who  had  forced 
from  him  the  money  -he  was  high  oa  tiie  staff  of  the  procon- 
sul-let his  confederate  and   tool  suffer  for  his  o^vn  fault 
He  kept  his  peace.    I  would  not  have  kept  mine;  I  would  not 
have  let  the  real  miner  of  my  uncle  escape.    But  *he  Roman  had 
me  seized,  with  the  aid  of  his  Greek  ally;  he  charged  me  with 
treasonable  correspondence  with  the  Parthians.     He,  through 
his  influence  with  the  proconsul,  had  me  bound  to  the  oar  as 
a  galley  slave  for  life.     I  would  have  been  executed  but  for 
another  Roman,  of  the  governor's  suite,  who  was  my  friend 
He  pleaded  for  my  life;  he  believed  me  innocent.     He  saved 
my  life -on  what  terms!      But  that  is  not  all  he  did.     He 
bribed  my  guards;  I  escaped  and  turned  outlaw.     I  joined 
the  last  remnants  of  the  Cilician  pirates,  the  few  free  mari- 
ners who  have  survived  Pompeius's  raid.     And  here  I  am  in 
Rome  with  one  of  my  ships,  disguised  as  a  trader,  riding  at 
toe  river  wharf." 


HOW  POMPEIUS   STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET      d4l 

i2:v'"::zL^'  "^^  ^-^^  -^^  -^^^  y-  -^  -y 

Sextus  Drusus,  son  of  Marcus  Drusus,  the  reformer.    And  if 
I  do  not  recompense  them  both  as  they  deserve,  I  am  not 
i^metnus  the  p;rate,  captain  of  seven  ships  I" 
.      "You  will    never  recompense   Sextus  Drusus,"   remarked 
Agxas,  qmetly.    "He  has  been  dead,  slain  in  Ga^,  these  five 

"  But  he  haa  left  a  son," 

«  Ah  !     What  sort  of  a  man  ?  " 

"The  noblest  of  all  noble  Romans.  He  is  the  Quinlnas 
Drusus  who  saved  ^ny  life,  as  last  night  I  told  you  " 

"Mithras  be  praised !  The  name  is  so  common  among  these 
Latins  ^at  I  did  not  imagine  any  connection  when  you  ml 
tionedit.     What  can  I  do  to  serve  him  •-'» 

"Immediately,  nothing.      He  i.  with  C^sar,  and,  as  you 
see,  the  enemies  of  the  Imperator  are  not  likely,  at  present 
to  work  his  friends  much  mischief.     Yet  it  is  slngX  ttt 
his  chief  ene^y  and  yours  are  so  near  akin.     Lucius  Aheno- 
barbus,  son  of  Domitius,  is  thirsting  for  Drusus's  blood." 

If  I  had  my  sword!"  muttered  Demetrius,  clapping  his 
hand  to  his  thigh.    "It  is  not  too  late  to  run  Ifter  the  fugl! 

"Come,  come,"  remonstrated  Agias,  feeling  that  his  newly 
found  cousin  was  indeed  a  fearful  and  wonderful  man  after 
twelve  years  of  lawless  and  godless  freebooter's  life  «At 
my  lodgings  we  will  talk  it  all  over;  and  there  will  be 
time  enough  to  scheme  the  undoing  of  Domitius  and  all  Mb 


I  T5' 


ii 


843 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAE 


And  with  these  words  he  led  the  sanguinary  sea-king  away. 

Agias  indeed  found  in  Demetrius  a  perfect  mine  of  bloody 
romance  and  adv.uture.      It  had   been  the  banking  clerk's 

It'^r  "!  i""  ''"'^  ''^'  ^^^^'  '"-'^  ^-d  L  been 
against  him  and  his  against  every  man.     Demetrius  had  '     , 
declared  an  outiaw  to  Roman  authority;  and  Roman  authority 

R^tfZ  ^T'-^^- to  India,  to  intercept  the 
Bed  Sea  traders  He  had  been  beyond  the  Pillars  of  HeLes 
and  set  foot  on  those  then  half-mythical  islands  of  the  Canaries 
He  had  plundered  a  hundred  merchantmen;  he  had  fought  a 
score  of  Roman  government  galleys;  he  had  been  principal  or 
accessoiy  to  the  teking  of  ten  thousand  lives.  All  Js  had 
been  forced  upon  him,  because  there  was  no  tolerable  spot  on 
the  planet  where  he  might  settle  down  and  be  free  from  the 
grasp  of  punishment  for  a  crime  he  had  never  committed. 

V  Jir*  tT  ""f  ^'''^  ""'  "P  *°  ^^"^  '^  ^  "g^t  undecked 
yacht.^     The  harbor  masters  had  been  given  to  understand 
that  the  captain  of  the  craft  was  an  Asiatic  princeling,  who 
was  visiting  the  capitel  of  the  world  out  of  a  quite  legUimate 
curiosity.    If  they  had  had  any  doubts,  they  accepted  extremely 
large  fees  and  said  nothing.     The  real  object  of  the  ventu,; 
was  to  dispose  of  a  large  collection  of  rare  gems  and  other 
valuables  that  Demetrius  had  collected  in  the  course  of  his 
wanderings.      Despite  the  perturbed  state  of  the  city,  the 
worthy  pirate  had  had  little  difficulty  in  arranging  with  certain 
wealthy  jewellers,  who  asked  no  questions,  when  they  bought 
at  a  very  l^ge  discount,  bargains  of  a  most  satisfactory  cL^ 

TL  '°  '*  "^^  '^  ^'>  ^y  ^^  ^«^««t  luck,  that 

the  two  cousins  were  thrown  together  in  a  crowd,  and  partly 

1 A  «tox  of  one  bank  of  oam.  a  «a»U  ship  much  UMd  by  the  pirate.. 


HOW  POMPEIUS   STAMPED  Wl'i  H   HIS  FEET     343 

Agia8,  through  his  dim  childish  recoilpctions  of  hia  unfortunate 
relative,  and  partly  Demetrius,  through  n.emories  of  his  uncle's 
boy  and  the  close  resemblance  of  the  lad  to  his  father,  had 
been  prompted  first  to  conversation,  then  to  mutual  inc.uiries. 
then  to  recognition. 

Demetrius  had  no  intention  of  leaving  Roiue  for  a  few  days. 
Under  existing  circu  ^nstam  e .  the  chauces  of  his  arrest  were 
not  wortii  considering.     His  c  ,asin  w..s  .u^tr  to  sliow  him  ali 
the  sights;  and  the  freel,cH.ter  was  gla.l  of  a  little  relaxation 
from  his  roving  life,  glad  to  forget  for  ai.  instant  that  his 
country  waa  his  squad ru:.  hi     n^^f,  ur  Ian-  were  his  cutlass 
Moreover  he  had  takeu  a  va.s.     icing  ,o  Agias;  deeply  dipped 
in  blood  himself,  he  dared  not  desire  iii.s  cousin  to  join  h  n  in 
his  career  of  violence -yet  he  could  not  „art  with  the  bright 
genial  lau  so  hastily.     ..gias  needed  no  tntreaties,  therefore,  tti 
induce  his  cousin  to  enjoy  his  hospiUlity. 

Ill 
Fabia  the  Vestal  was  in  direful  perplexity.    Her  heart  had 
gone  with  Drusus  in  his  flignt  to  Ravenna ;  sho  had  wished 
herself  beside  him,  to  be  a  man,  able  to  fight  a  man's  battles 
and  win  a  man's  glory.     For  the  first  time  in  her  life  the  quiet 
routme  of  tlie  Temple  service  brought  her  no  contentment :  for 
the  hrst  time  she  felt  herself  bound  to  a  car^rv  that  could  not 
satisfy.     She  was  restless  and  moody.     Th       ounger  Vestals 
whose  attendance  on  the  sacred  fire  and  care  of  the  Temple' 
she  oversaw,  wondered  at  her  exacting  petulance.     Little  Livia 
brought  her  aunt  to  her  senses,  by  asking  why  she,  Fabia,  did 
not  love  her  any  more.     The  kd.,  .r .T..:onud  all  her  strength 
of  character,  and  resumed  her  outward  placidity.     She  knew 
that  Drusus  was  safe  with  C«sar,  and  exposed  only  to  the 
ordinary  chances  of  war.    She  became  more  at  ease  as  each 


Hi 


344 


A  FBIEND  OF  C^SAB 


successive  messenger  came  into  the  city,  bearing  the  tidings  of 
the  Gallic  proconsul's  advance.    Too  innocent  herself  of  the 
political  turmoils  of  the  day  to  decide  upon  the  merits  of  the 
parties,  her  hopes  and  wishes  had  gone  with  those  of  her 
nephew;  so  pure  and  unquestioning  was  her  belief  that  he 
would  espouse  only  the  right.    And  when  the  great  panic  came ; 
when  trembling  consulars  and  pallid  magistrates  rushed  to  the 
Temple  of  Vesta  to  proffer  their  last  hurried  vows,  before 
speeding  away  to  Capua,  their  refuge;  Fabia  stood  all  day 
beside  the  altar,  stately,  gracious,  yet  awe-inspiring,  the  fitting 
personification  of  the  benignant  Hearth  Goddess,  who  was 
above  the  petty  passions  of  mortals  and  granted  to  each  an 
impartial  favour. 

Yet  Fabia  was  sorely  distressed,  and  that  too  on  the  very 
day  of  the  great  exodus  of  the  Senate.     She  had  heard  for 
some  time  past  rumours  of  the  depredations  of  a  certain  band 
of  robbers  upon  the  Sabine  and  ^quian  country.     It  was  said 
that    a  gang  of  bandits,  headed  by  a  gigantic   Gaul,    had 
plundered  some  farms  near  C'arsioli  and  infested  the  mountain 
regions  round  about.     Fabia  had  connected  thir  gang  and  its 
chieftain  with  Dumnorix  and  the  remnant  of  his  gladiators, 
who  escaped  after  their  disastrous  affray  at  Prsneste.    As  for 
Publius  Gabinius,  who  had  on  one  occasion  given  her  such  dis- 
tress, nothing  had  been  heard  or  seen  of  him  since  the  Prseneste 
affair.     It  was  generally  believed,  however,  that  he  was  still 
with  Dumnorix.     And  a  few  days  before  the  panic  in  the  city, 
Fabia  had  received  a  letter.     A  strange  slave  had  left  it  at  the 
Atrium  Vestae,  and  had  gone  away  without  explanations.    It 
ran  thus: — 

"To  the  very  noble  Vestal,  the  Lady  Fabia,  greeting:  — 
Though  I  am  now  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  barred  from  the 
doors  of  ali  law-abiding  men,  do  not  imagine  this  wUl  forever 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET     346 

continue.  In  the  confusion  and  readjustments  of  war,  and  the 
calamities  of  many,  the  affairs  of  some,  one  time  enemies  of 
Fortune,  come  to  a  happy  issue.  Do  not  say  that  Mars  may 
not  lead  Amor  and  Hymen  in  his  train.  All  things  come  to 
them  who  wait.  I  wait.  Remember  the  life  you  spend  in  the 
Temple  is  no  longer  obligatory.  Be  no  cage  bird  who  will  not 
fly  out  into  the  sunlight  when  the  door  is  opened  freely.  Be 
surprised  and  angry  at  nothing.     Vale." 

There  was  no  date,  no  signature.     The  hand  was  distorted, 
evidently  for  disguise.     Fabia  was  in  a  dilemma.    She  did  not 
need  to  be  told  that  in  all  probability  — though  she  had  no 
proof —the  writer  was  Gabinius.     She  was  extremely  reluctant 
to  tell  any  one  of  her  escape  from  his  clutches  in  the  villa  by 
the  Appian  Way.     However,  some  confidant  seemed  necessary. 
She  knew  that  Fonteia,  the  senior  Vestal,  the  Maxima,  would 
never  treat  her  other  than  as  a  sifter,  aud  to  her  she  read  the 
letter  and  imparted  her  story  and  fears.     Fonteia  did  not 
regard  the  matter  in  a  very  serious  light.     She  was  herself  an 
old  woman,  grown  grey  in  the  service  of  Vesta.     She  said  that 
Fabia  had  been  most  fortunate  to  remain  in  the  Temple  service 
so  long  as  she  had  and  not  be  harassed  by  more  than  one 
impious  and  overbold  suitor.     The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  be 
careful  and  avoid  anything  that  would  give  false  appearances. 
As  for  Fabia's  fears  that  Gabinius  would  attempt  to  carry  her 
away  perforce,  as  he  had  perhaps  treated  earlier  sweethearts, 
Fonteia  scoffed  at  the  suggestion.     The  Atrium  Vest*  was  in' 
the  heart  of  the  city;  there  was  a  constant  patrol  on  duty. 
For  a  man  to  enter  the  building  at  night  meant  the  death  pen- 
alty.   Whosoever  did  violence  to  a  Vestal  fell  under  a  religious 
curse;  he  was  a  homo  sacer,  a  «  sacred  mau,"  a  victim  devoted 
to  the  gods,  whom  it  was  a  pious  deed  to  slay.    And  thus  com- 
forted, with  the  assurance  that  the  whole  power  of  the  Republic 


.1? 


<i. 


:  r 


S46 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


w-ouJd  rise  for  her  personal  defence,  Fabia  waa  fain  to  put 
the  disquietxng  latter  from  her  heart 

Then  followed  the  night  of  panic,  and  the  succeeding  day. 
There  were  no  longer  any  magistrates  in  Rome.    The  great 
palaces  of  the  patricians  stood  deserted,  exposed  to  the  unfaith- 
ful guax-dianship  of  freedmen  and  slaves.     The  bankers'  booths 
were  closed,  the  shops  did  not  raise  their  shutters.     On  the 
streets  swarmed  the  irresponsible  and  the  vicious.    Men  of 
property  who  had  not  fled  barred  their  doors  and  stood  guard 
with  their  servants  to  beat  back  would-be  plunderers.    There 
were  no  watehmen  at  the  gates,  no  courts  sitting  in  the  basilicas. 
After  the  great  flight  of  the  early  morning,  Rome  was  a  city 
without  warders,  police,  or  government. 

Fabia  did  not  realize  this  fact  until  late  in  the  afternoon, 
when  she  started  forth,  on  foot  and  unattended,  to  visit  a  friend 
on  the  Caehan  The  half-deserted  streete  and  barricaded  houses 
filled  her  with  uneasy  tremors.     The  lo>v,  brutish  creatures 

ltd  tl  T  f  r        '''''^  '^''''  '"*  *'^  «^^^*  ^'  *^«-»  alone 
and  not  offset  by  any  more  respectable  fellow-strollers,  made 
her  turn  back  to  the  Atrium  Vestae.     As  she  hastened  on  her 
way  homeward  an  uneasy  sensation  haunted  her  that  she  was 
being  followed.     She  halted,  faced  about.    The  street  was  nar- 
row, the  light  was  beginning  to  fade.     The  figure  of  a  man  was 
vanishiag  in  the  booth  of  some  bold  vintner,  who  had  ventured 
to  risk  plunder  for  the  sake  of  sales.     She  proceeded.     A 
moment  later  a  half  glance  over  the  shoulder  and  a  straining 
of  the  eyes  teld  her  that  the  stranger  was  continuing  his  pur- 
suit.    He  kept  very  close  to  the  side  of  the  buildings.     His 
face  and  xorm  were  quite  lost  in  shadow.     Fabia  quickened 
her  pace;  the  stranger  increased  his  also,  yet  made  no  effort 
to  eut  down  the  distance  between  them.     The  Vestal  began  te 
feel  the  blood  mantling  te  her  cheeks  and  leaving  them  again 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET    347 

She  was  so  near  to  the  Forum  and  the  Atrium  Vesta  now  that 
she  could  not  be  overtaken.     But  why  did  the  stranger  follow? 

There  was  a  gap  in  the  houses  ahead.  Through  a  narrow 
alley  the  dying  light  was  streaming.  Fabia  passed  it,  timed 
herself,  glanced  back.  For  an  instant,  and  only  an  instant 
(for  the  stranger  walked  rapidly),  the  light  glared  full  upon 
his  face.  But  Fabia  needed  to  see  no  more.  It  was  the  face 
of  Publius  Gabinius.  By  a  mighty  effort  she  prevented  her- 
self from  breaking  into  a  run.  She  passed  into  the  doorway 
of  the  Atrium  Vestse,  and  sank  upon  a  divan,  shivering  with 
fright.  Recollecting  herself,  she  went  to  Fonteia  and  told  her 
the  discovery.  The  Maxima,  however,  by  that  singular  fatuity 
which  sometimes  takes  possession  of  the  wisest  of  people,  — 
especially  when  the  possible  danger  is  one  which  never  in  all 
their  long  experience  has  come  to  a  head,  —  received  her  warn- 
ings with  blank  incredulity. 

"  You  should  not  go  out  of  the  house  and  Temple,"  she  said, 
"until  there  is  some  proper  policing  of  the  oity.  No  doubt 
Gabinius  has  come  back  for  the  sake  of  riot  and  plunder,  and 
having  met  with  you  by  chance  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
to  try  to  have  an  interview;  but  you  are  in  no  possible  danger 
here." 

"But,  Fonteia,"  urged  the  younger  Vestal,  "I  know  him  to 
be  a  bold,  desperate  man,  who  fears  not  the  gods,  and  who 
from  the  law  can  expect  no  mercy.  And  we  in  this  house  are 
but  weak  women  folk.  Our  only  defence  is  our  purity  and  the 
reverence  of  the  people.  But  only  the  evi !  wandev  the  streets 
to-night;  and  our  virtuous  lives  make  us  only  the  more 
attractive  prey  to  such  men  as  Gabinius." 

"Fabia,"  said  the  other  Vestal,  severely,  "I  am  older  than 
you.  I  have  beheld  sights  you  have  never  seen.  I  saw  the 
riots  when  Saturninus  and  Glaucia  came  to  their  ends;  when 


'   'iii 


ii[f 


348 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


Marius  was  chased  from  Rome  and  Sulpicius  nut  fn  ^...u 
when  Marius  returned  with  Cinna-  and  aH  tl  ' 

strife  attending  the  taking  of  the^Tt,"  fu  la     sTr' 
has  the  name  of  Vesta  been  insuffic^n^'to '^t  J^  "^^^^^^ 
he  .0  ence  of  the  basest  or  the  most  godles^r^^^^ 
now      I  will  trust  in  the  goddess,  and  the  fear  of  her  which 

'J^Tl    ';  "^f"^  ^^^^^*  ^"  --     ^«  -"  sleep  ;  n^It 
as  usual.    I  will  not  send  anvwher«  f^  i,o^»         j  ^ 

around  th,  houae  and  TempU  »  °  ^"^  '"*"°"«» 

w«  ri 'm     1  !  "°°"°r^    F'W*  t»W  lerself  that  Fonteia 

sensual  ^e  o,  .„  .nw:dnover:::::r:rLn: 

ord.nary  toes  she  would  hav,  been  tempted  to  ^^  ^  one'f 
the  consul,  and  demand  that  Fonteia  be  overJIi     but  ,„ 

adding  to  the  already  sufficient  city  watch.     It  lacked  four 
hou™  o(  midnight  bctee  she  brought  herseU  to  H  t 
tablets  and  write  the  following  brief  note:- 

noC:;rttintr-:vi-L^;rderr 

litill     ;  ^'-    f"'"'"'  ™^''^™  »»  I>"""eri,'s  tend 
Witt  him.    But  y„„  alone  are  equal  to  an  host.    I  trust  you 
as  Drusus  and  Cornelia  hay.  trusted  you.     Vol,"    ^^  ^°"' 

".e  vestal..     The  relation  between  seryant  and  mistress, 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET    341 

in  the  Temple  company,  was  almost  ideal  in  its  gentle  loyalty. 
The  slaves  were  happy  in  their  bondage. 
^^  "Erigone,"  she  said,  putting  the  tablets  in  the  girl's  hand, 
«I  am  about  to  ask  of  you  a  very  brave  thing.  Do  you  dare 
to  take  this  letter  through  the  city?"  and  she  told  her  how  to 
find  Agias's  lodgings.  "Come  back  in  the  morning  if  you 
dread  a  double  journey.  But  do  not  tell  Fonteia;  she  would 
be  angry  if  she  knew  I  sent  you,  though  there  is  nothing  but 
what  is  right  in  the  letter." 

"I  will  carry  the  tablets  to  Scythia  for  you,  domina," 
replied  the  girl,  kissing  the  hem  of  her  mistress's  robe.  "I 
know  all  the  streets.     If  I  live,  the  letter  shall  be  delivered." 

"Go  by  the  alleys,"  enjoined  Fabia;  "they  are  safer,  for 
you  will  not  be  seen.  Speak  to  no  one.  Let  none  stop 
you." 

Erigone  was  gone  in  the  night,  and  Fabia  went  to  her 
chamber.  She  was  reproaching  herself  for  having  sent  the 
letter.  Rome  by  darkness  was  an  evil  place  for  a  young  maid 
to  traverse,  and  never  worse  than  that  night.  Fabia  repeated 
to  herself  that  she  had  committed  an  act  of  selfish  folly,  pos- 
sibly sacrificing  an  implicitly  loyal  servant  to  the  mere  grati- 
fication of  a  perfectly  ungrounded  panic.  She  was  undressed 
by  her  other  women,  and  lay  down  with  Livia  fast  asleep  in 
her  arms;  and  she  kissed  the  little  one  again  and  again  before 
slumber  stole  over  her. 

IV 

Demetrius  hid  been  astonishing  his  cousin  that  evening 
by  the  quantity  of  strong  wine  he  could  imbibe  without  be- 
coming in  the  least  tipsy.  Agias  marvelled  at  the  worthy 
pirate's  capacity  and  hardness  of  head,  and,  fortunately  for 
his  own  wits,  did  not  attempt  to  emulate  the  other's  pota- 


-■    H 


3S0 


A  FEIEND  OP  CiBSAE 


liZi    P"'"^""'*^^-  "  «»  evening  advanced,  Demetrin. 
nrnp'r  beoam,  more  and  n.„re  g«,d-„atured  aTd  talkatit" 

ZtitZZ'^  ™'™'"'' '""  "^ "'"""'''  ""-««■ "'  «>• 

The  younger  Greek  wae  about  to  order  hi.  yawning  servant, 
to  MI  up  another  to««.,.  .hen  the  oonver»tL  and  d^™„^ 
were  mterrupted  by  the  arrival  of  Erigone.    She,  poor  gir",  C 

every  shadow  had  been  a  refuge  of  cutthroat,,  every  „oi™  tZ 
oncoming  of  goblin,.  Fortunately  for  her,  ,he  did  not  Cw 
the  conten^  of  the  tablets  .he  carried  pressed  to  her  br^a^  oT 
.he  would  have  been  all  the  more  timorou,.  Once  a  few  h;u' 
«.ber  toper,  .creamed  ribald  word.  afi»r  her,  a,  .he  ,tole  past 

fnght,  among  the  alley,,  ,he  had  dodg«l  into  a  doorway  more 
than  once  to  h.de  from  approaching  night  rover,.    Bat  at  las 

the  ,  »  ""'.'*  "f'  '"'»«°^«»».  '"I.  pale  and  weary,  plac^ 
the  letter  ,n  Ag.as',  hand,.  The  young  Greek  r«>d  ^d  grew 
grave.  Even  better  than  Fabia  he  understood  how  reeklS^I 
profl,gate  Publiu,  Gabinius  might  be,  and  how  opporT^  1 
the  night  for  carrying  out  any  deed  of  darkness. 

Brave  girl ! "  he  said,  commending  Erigone  for  persevering 

replie'd™  ""■  '"""^  ''""  °'  *^'  "Shf  when  I  started,"  she 
Agias  glanced  at  the  water-clock. 
"By  Zeu,l"  he  cried,  "it  i,  now  the  fourth  hourl    You 

*  Wlne-mixing  bowl. 

•  The  Romans  divided  the  nio-ht  intn  10 1,^.,^  1, 

the  length  of  the  hour  var  ed  with  thelS  k^!""°  '"'"■"*  *"'"""'«*)  ■  *"'"' 
the  "second  hour"  wTatout  mpL  Tr  l  "*.'".!''"  """  ^^'^  ™«"t'«»'«^ 
)»r.  not  wlar.  time  ''"  water-clocfa  could  .how  only  regu- 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET    361 

have  been  two  hours  on  the  way!  Immortal  gods!  What's 
to  be  done?    Look  here,  Demetrius!" 

And  he  thrust  the  letter  before  his  cousin,  and  explained  its 
meaning  as  rapidly  as  he  could. 

Demetrius  puffed  hard  through  his  nostrils. 

"Mu/mul  This  is  bad  business.  If  there  were  time  I  could 
have  twenty  as  stout  men  as  ever  swung  sword  up  from  the 
yacht  and  on  guard  to  die  for  any  relative  or  friend  of  Sextus 
Drusus.  But  there's  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Have  you  any 
arms?" 

Agias  dragged  two  short  swords  out  of  a  chest.  Demetrius 
was  already  throwing  on  his  cloak. 

"Those  are  poor,  light  weapons,"  commented  the  pirate. 
"I  want  my  heavy  cutlass.  But  take  what  the  gods  send;" 
and  he  girded  one  about  him.  "At  least,  they  will  cut  a 
throat.     Do  you  know  how  to  wield  them?  " 

'•After  a  fashion,"  replied  Agias,  modestly,  making  baste 
to  clasp  his  psenula. 

Leaving  Erigone  to  be  cared  for  by  the  slaves  and  sent  home 
the  next  morning,  the  two  Greeks  hastened  from  the  house. 
Agias  could  hardly  keep  pace  with  his  cousin's  tremendous 
stride.  Demetrius  was  like  a  war-horse,  which  snuffs  the  battle 
from  afar  and  tugs  at  the  rein  to  join  in  the  fray.  They 
plunged  through  the  dark  streets.  Once  a  man  sprang  out 
from  a  door\vay  before  them  with  a  cudgel.  He  may  have 
been  a  footpad;  but  Demetrius,  without  pausing  in  his  haste, 
smote  the  fellow  between  the  eyes  with  a  terrible  fist,  and  the 
wretched  creature  dropped  without  a  groan.  Demetrius  seemed 
guided  to  the  Forum  and  Via  Sacra  as  if  by  an  inborn  instinct. 
Agias  almost  ran  at  his  heels. 

"How  many  may  this  Dumnorix  have  with  him?"  shouted 
the  pirate  over  his  shoulder. 


¥f 


352 


A  FRIEND  OF  C;ESAB 


''  Perhaps  ten,  perhaps  twenty  f »  gasped  Agias. 
A  very  pretty  number !   Some  little  credit  to  throttle  them." 
was  his  answer;  and  Demetrius  plunged  on  ^ 

The  night  was  cloudy,  there  was  no  moonlight.     The  cold. 

fu^am      T'.  n°^  ^"^  ^'"^^  '^''^y^  ^^  ^^^ed  mourn- 
fully among  the  tell,  silent  basilicas  and  temples  of  the  Forum 
The  feet  of  the  two  Greeks  echoed  and  reechcJed  as  they  crs^d 
the  pavemen,  of  the  enclosure.     None  addressed  them,"::' 
rnet  them.    It  was  as  if  they  walked  in  a  city  of  tte  deai.    Z 
the  darkness,  like  weird  phantoms,  rose  the  tell  colu^s  and 
pediments  of  the  deserted  buildings.     From  nowhe^^L^d 
the  ray  of  lamp.     Dim  against  the  sky-line  the  outlines  of  the 
Capitohne  and  ite  shrines  were  now  and  then  visible,  when 
the  night  seemed  for  an  instant  to  grow  less  dark. 

Ihey  were  close  to  the  Atrium  Vest«.  AH  was  quiet.  No 
hgh  wxthin,  no  sound  but  that  of  the  wind  and  their  own 
breathing  without. 

"We  are  not  too  late,"  whispered  Agias 
of  th.'  T'Tt  ''^'"  "'^  ^"  ^°"^  '^'  P"J-"  of  the  portico 
hal    sheltered  from  the  chilly  Waste.     They  could  frortS 

d^l?de"th  t  ""  ^'^  ""''^  ^^^^*'  ^°^  ^hey  dar.d  not 

dmde  their  force  by  one  of  them  stending  watch  on  the  other 
sMe.      rh.  moments   j^sed.     It  was  extremely  cold.     Ajrias 
Slave. .d  and  wound  himself  in  his  mantle.     The  wine  wa 
mak.ng  ,um  drowsy,  and  he  felt  himself  sinking  intTse^ 
consciousness,  when  a  touch  on  his  arm  aroused  hL. 

St!     whispered  Demetrius.     " I  saw  a  light  moving  » 

Agias  stared  into  the  darkness. 

"There,"  continued  the  pirate,  "see,  it  is  a  lantern  carefully 
»  The  official  residence  of  the  Pontifex  Maximm. 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET    363 


covered!  Only  a  little  glint  on  the  ground  now  and  then. 
Some  one  is  creeping  along  the  wall  to  enter  the  house  of 
the  Vestals!" 

"I  see  nothing,"  confessed  Agias,  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"You  are  no  sailor;  look  harder.  I  can  count  four  men  in 
the  gloom.  They  are  stealing  up  to  the  gate  of  the  building. 
Is  your  sword  ready?    Now  —  " 

But  at  this  instant  Demetrius  was  cut  short  by  a  scream  — 
a  scream  of  mortal  terror  — from  within  the  Atrium  Vestae. 
There  were  shouts,  howls,  commands,  moans,  entreaties, 
shrieks.  Light  after  light  blazed  up  in  the  building;  women 
rushed  panic-struck  to  the  doorway  to  burst  forth  into  the 
night;  and  at  the  open  portal  Agias  saw  a  gigantic  figure 
with  upraised  long  sword,  a  Titan,  malevolent,  destroying, 
terrible, —at  the  sight  whereof  the  women  shrank  back, 
screaming  yet  the  more. 

"  Dumnorix !  "  shouted  Agias ;  but  before  he  spoke  Demetrius 
had  leaped  forward. 

Right  past  the  sword-wielding  monster  sprang  the  pirate, 
and  Agias,  all  reckless,  was  at  his  heels.  The  twain  were  in 
the  atrium  of  the  house.  A  torch  was  spluttering  and  blazing 
on  the  pavement,  shedding  all  around  a  bright,  flickering,  red 
glare.  Young  Jestals  and  maid-servants  were  cowering  on 
their  knees,  or  prone  on  cushions,  writhing  and  screaming  with 
fear  unspeakable.  A  swart  Spanish  brigand,  with  his  sabre 
gripped  in  his  teeth,  was  tearing  a  gold-thread  and  silk  cov- 
ering from  a  pillow;  a  second  plunderer  was  wrenching  from 
its  chain  a  silver  lamp.  Demetrius  rushed  past  these  also, 
before  any  could  inquire  whetlier  he  was  not  a  comrade  in 
infamy.  But  there  were  other  shouts  from  the  peristylium.. 
other  cries  and  meanings.  As  the  pirate  sjirang  to  the  head 
of  the  passage  leading  to  the  inner  house,  a  swarm  of  des- 
2a 


m 


t  !- 


•fjll 


354 


A  FRIEND  OP  CMSAU 


"The  lady!    Gabinius!"  eried  Atri-ui   an^  «,-*u 

pavement;  one  snatch  of  hi,  K. .  i      •   T  ,    ^  ^^^  '^® 

andheldit-held^th       .^  ^^    '"''"^^  *^'  ^^"^  °^^««' 

in  his  fac«  in  .  ,         ^    ^'^"  *  '^^^'^'^  b^^««  ^«re  flashing 

m  ma  lace  m  an  eye's  twinkliim     p„*  ^.i,  «w"xug 

left  and  striking  lith  h.!^^;"j/7'' 7  •«''^'"8  »""  >■« 

tz:~j:  ^ZT^- ""!,''"" ""'  "°^ "'  "'"«'■«  ^^" 

the  ,„an  fi„t,  but  T^teM  r^ott  ^wturd^  '""' 
quitted  the  side  of  the  ladv      A  J  ,  ''"'"'  ■'°' 

after  ho„  lon>,     f„lt      ^'    t^  P'«»"«y.  he  did  not  know 

saw  rublms  Gabinius  s  nkini.  doim  i„.rn  fk. 

blood  streaming  over  his  cloakTrnd    .^  bd/T"'l''^ 

were  left  of  them,  scurrying  out  of  thl         ^        '  """"^  "' 
,    ourryiug  out  of  the  bU^nm  cowed  and 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET     366 

panic-struck  at  the  fall  of  t  it  leader.  Then,  a^  he  threw 
his  arms  abovi  Fabia,  and  tried  to  raise  her  to  her  feet,  he 
saw  the  giant  Dumnorix,  with  his  flail-like  sword,  rushing 
back  to  the  rescue. 

Four  brigands  lay  dead  in  the  atrium  and  none  of  the  others 
dared  look  the  redoubtable  Greek  swordsman  in  the  eyes;  but 
Dumnorix  came  on— the  incarnation  of  brute  fury      Then 
again  Demetrius  fought,  -  fought  as  the  angler  fights  the  fish 
that  he  doubts  not  to  land,  yet  only  after  due  play;  and  the 
Gaul,   like  some  awkward   Polyphemus,   rushed  upon  him 
flinging  at  him  barbarous  curses  in  his  own  tongue,  and  snort- 
ing and  raging  like  a  bull.     Thrice  the  Greek  sprang  back 
before  the  monster;  thrice  the  giant  swung  his  mighty  sword 
to  cleave  his  foeman  down,  and  cut  the  empty  air;  but  at  the 
fourth  onset  the  Hellene  smote  the  ex-lanista  once  across  the 
neck,  and  the  great  eyes  rolled,  and  the  panting  stopped,  and 
the  mighty  Gaul  lay  silent  in  a  spreading  pool  of  blood. 

Already  there  were  shouts  and  cries  in  the  Forum.     Torches 
were  dancing  hither  and  thither.     The  slave-maids  of  the 
Vestals  ran  down  the  Via  Sacra  shrieking  and  calling  for  aid 
Out  from  the  dark  tenements  rushed  the  people.     The  thieves 
ran  from  their  lairs;  the  late  drinkers  sprang  from  their  wine 
And  when  the  wretched  remnants  of  Dumnorix's  bar.d  of 
ex-gladiators  anS  brigands  strove  to  flee  from  the  holy  house 
they  had  polluted,  a  hundred  hands  were  put  forth  against 
each  one,  and  they  were  torn  to  pieces  by  the  frenzied  mob. 
Into  the  Atrium  Vestae  swarmed  the  people,  howling,  shouting, 
praising  the  goddess,  fighting  one  another  -  every  man  imag- 
ining his  neighbour  a  cutthroat  and  abductor. 

Agias  stood  bearing  up  Fabia  in  his  arras;  she  was  pale  as 
the  driven  snow.  Her  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  passed  from 
them.    Fonteia,  the  old  Maxima,  with  her  white  hair  tumbling 


;*! 


MICROCOPY   RiSOlUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


356 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


over  her  shoulders,  was  still  huddled  in  one  corner,  groaning 
and  moaning  in  a  paroxysm  of  unreasoning  terror,  without  dig- 
nity or  self-control.     A  frightened  maid  had  touched  the  torch 
to  the  tall  candelabra,  and  the  room  blazed  with  a  sc  re  of 
lights;  while  in  at  the  doorway  pressed  the  multitude  —  the 
mob  of  low  tapsters,  brutal  butchers,  coarse  pedlers,   and 
drunkards  just  staggering  from  their  cups.      The  scene  was 
one  of  pandemonium.     Dumnorix  lay  prone  on  a  costly  rug, 
whose  graceful  patterns  were  being  dyed  to  a  hideous  crimson'; 
over  one  divan  lay  a  brigand  —  struggling  in  the  last  agony 
of  a  mortal  wound.     Three  comrades  lay  stretched  stiff  and 
motionless  on  the  floor.     Gory  swords  and  daggers  were  strewn 
all  over  the  atrium;  the  presses  of  cosily  wood  had  been  torn 
open,  their  contents  scattered  across  the  room.     There  was 
blood  on  the  frescoes,  blood  on  the  marble  feet  of  the  mag- 
nificent Diomedes,  which  stood  rigid  in  cold  majesty  on  its 
pedestal,  dominating  the  wreck  below. 

Agias  with  Fabia  stood  at  the  end  of  the  atrium  near  the 
exit  to  the  peristylium.  Demetrius,  seemingly  hardly  breathed 
by  his  exertions,  leaned  on  his  captured  long  sword  at  his 
cousin's  Sid-.  The  multitude,  for  an  instant,  as  they  saw  the 
ruin  and  slaughter,  drew  back  with  a  hush.  Men  turned  away 
their  faces  as  from  a  sight  of  evil  omen.  Who  were  they  to 
set  foot  in  the  mansion  of  the  servants  of  the  awful  Vesta? 
But  others  from  behind,  who  saw  and  heard  nothing,  pressed 
their  fellows  forward.  The  mob  swept  on.  As  with  one  con- 
sent all  eyes  were  riveted  on  Fabia.  What  had  happened? 
Who  was  guilty?  Why  had  these  men  of  violence  done  this 
wrong  to  the  >  jme  of  the  hearth  goddess?  And  then  out  of  a 
farther  corner,  while  yet  the  people  hesitated  from  reverence, 
staggered  a  figure,  its  face  streaming  with  blood,  its  hands 
pressing  its  side. 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET     357 


"  Quirites,''  cried  a  voice,  the  voice  of  one  speaking  with  but 
one  remaining  breath,  "ye  have  rewarded  me  as  the  law 
demands;  see  that  she,"  and  a  bloody  forefinger  pointed  at 
Fabia,  "  who  led  me  to  this  deed,  is  not  unpunished.  She  is 
the  more  guilty ! " 

And  with  a  groan  the  figure  fell  like  a  statue  of  wood  to  the 
pavement;  fell  heavily,  and  lay  stirring  not,  neither  giving  any 
sound.  In  his  last  moment  Publius  Gabinius  had  sought  a 
terrible  revenge. 

And  then  madness  seized  on  the  people. 

"She  is  his  sweetheart!  She  is  his  paramour  1"  cried  a 
score  of  filthy  voices.  "  She  has  brought  down  this  insult  to 
the  goddess!  There  is  no  pontif ex  here  to  try  her!  Tear  her 
in  pieces!     Strike!     Slay!" 

But  Demetrius  had  turned  to  his  cousin. 

"  Agias,"  he  said,  making  himself  heard  despite  the  clamour, 
"do  you  believe  the  charge  of  that  man?  " 

"No  villain  ever  would  avenge  himself  more  basely." 

"Then  at  all  costs  we  must  save  the  lady." 

It  was  time.  A  fat  butcher,  flourishing  a  heavy  cleaver,  had 
leaped  forward;  Fabia  saw  him  with  glassy,  friglitened  eyes, 
but  neither  shrieked  nor  drew  back.  But  Demetrius  smote  the 
man  with  his  long  sword  through  the  body,  and  the  brute 
dropped  the  c^«aver  as  he  fell. 

"Now,"  and  Demetrius  seized  the  Vestal  around  the  waist, 
as  lightly  as  a  girl  would  raise  a  kitten,  and  flung  her  across 
his  shoulders.  One  stride  and  he  was  in  the  passage  leading 
to  the  peristylium;  and  before  the  mob  could  follow  Agias  had 
dashed  the  door  in  their  faces,  and  shot  the  bolt. 

"It  will  hold  them  back  a  moment,"  muttered  Demetrius, 
•*but  we  must  hasten." 

They  ran  across  the  peristylium,  the  pirate  chief  with  hi« 


II 


!l 


! 


358 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAE 


burden  no  less  swift  than  Agias.  The  door  to  the  rear  street 
was  flung  open,  and  they  were  out  in  a  narrow  alleyway.  Just 
as  they  did  so,  a  howl  of  many  voices  proclaimed  that  the  peri- 
styUum  door  had  yielded. 

"Guide  me  by  the  straightest  way,"  commanded  the  sea 
rover. 

"Where?"  was  Agias 's  question. 

"  To  the  wharves.  The  yacht  is  the  only  safe  place  for  the 
lady.  There  I  will  teach  her  how  I  can  honour  a  friend  of 
Sextus  Drusus." 

Agias  felt  that  it  was  no  time  for  expostulation.     A  Vestal 
Virgin  take  refuge  on  a  pirate  ship!    But  it  was  a  matter  of 
life  and  death  now,  aud  there  was  no  time  for  forming  another 
plan.     Once  let  the  mob  overtake  them,  and  the  lives  of  all 
three  were  not  worth  a  sesterce.     Agias  found  it  necessary  to 
keep  himself  collected  while  he  ran,  or  he  would  lose  the  way 
in  the  maze  of  streets.     The  yacht  was  moored  far  below  the 
Pons  Sublicius,  and  the  whole  way  was  full  of  peril.     It  was 
no  use  to  turn  off  into  alleys  and  by-paths;  to  do  so  at  night 
meant  to  be  involved  in  a  labyrinth  as  deadly  for  them  as  that 
of  the  Cretan  Minos.     The  mob  was  on  their  heels,  howling, 
raging.     The  people  were  beginning  to  wake  in  their  houses 
along  the  streets.     Men  bawled  "Stop  thief! "  from  the  win- 
dows, imagining  there  had  been  a  robbery.     Once  two  or  three 
figures  actually  swung  out  into  the  way  before  them,  but  at  a 
stray  glint  of  lantern  light  falling  on  Demetrius's  naked  long 
sword,  they  vanished  in  the  gloom.     But  still  the  mob  pressed 
on,  ever  gaining  accessions,  ever  howling  the  more  fiercely. 
Agias  realized  that  the  weight  of  his  burden  was  beginning 
tell  on  even  the  iron  frame  of  his  cousin.     The  pursuers  and 
pursued  were  drawing  closer  together.     The  mob  was  ever 
refinforced  by  relays;   the  handicap  on  Demetrius  was  too 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH  HIS  FEET    369 

great.  They  had  passed  down  the  Vicus  Tuscus,  flown  past 
the  dark  shadow  of  che  lower  end  of  the  Circus  Maximus.  At 
the  Porta  Trigeinina  the  unguarded  portal  had  stood  open; 
there  was  none  to  stop  them.  They  passed  by  the  Pons  Subli- 
cius,  and  skirted  the  Aventine.  Stones  and  billets  of  wood 
began  to  whistle  past  their  ears,  —  the  missiles  of  the  on-rush- 
ing multitude.  At  last  the  wharves!  Out  in  the  darkness 
stood  the  huge  bulk  of  a  Spanish  lumberman;  but  there  was  no 
refuge  there.  The  grain  wharves  and  the  oil  wharves  were 
passed;  the  sniff  of  the  mackerel  fisher,  the  faint  odour  from 
the  great  Alexandrian  merchantman  loaded  with  the  spices  of 
India,  were  come  and  gone.  A  stone  struck  Agias  in  the 
shoulder,  he  felt  numb  in  one  arm,  to  drag  his  feet  was  a 
burden;  the  flight  with  the  Caesarians  to  the  Janiculum  had 
n  >:;  been  like  to  this,  — death  at  the  naked  stvord  had  been  at 
least  in  store  then,  and  now  to  be  plucked  iu  pieces  by  a  mob! 
Another  stone  brushed  forward  his  hair  and  dashed,  not  against 
Demetrius  ahead,  but  against  his  burden.  There  was  —  Agias 
could  hear  —  a  low  moan;  but  at  the  same  instant  the  fleeing 
pirate  uttered  a  whistle  so  loud,  so  piercing,  that  the  foremost 
pursuers  came  to  a  momentary  stand,  in  half-defined  fright. 
In  an  instant  there  came  an  answering  whistle  from  the  wharf 
just  ahead.  In  a  twinkling  half  a  dozen  torches  had  flashed 
out  all  over  a^'small  vessel,  now  barely  visible  in  the  night,  at 
one  of  the  mooring  rings.  There  was  a  strange  jargon  of  voices 
calling  in  some  Oriental  tongue;  and  Demetrius,  as  he  ran, 
answered  them  in  a  like  language.  Then  o\  er  Agias's  head 
and  into  the  thick  press  of  the  mob  behind,  something  —  arrows 
no  doubt  —  flew  whistling;  and  there  were  groans  and  cries  of 
pain.  And  Agias  found  uncouth,  bearded  men  helping  or 
rather  casting  him  over  the  side  of  the  vessel.  The  yacht 
was  alive  with  men :  some  were  bounding  ashore  to  loose  the 


360 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


P 


hawsers,  others  were  lifting  ponderous  oars,  still  more  were 
shooting  fast  and  cruelly  in  the  direction  of  the  mob,  while 
its  luckless  leaders  struggled  to  turn  in  flight,  and  the  multi- 
tude behind,  ignorant  of  the  slaurite.-,  was  forcing  them  on  to 
death.  Above  the  clamour,  the  howls  of  the  mob,  the  shouts 
of  the  sailors,  the  grating  of  oars,  and  the  creaking  of  cables, 
rang  the  voice  of  Demetrius;  and  at  his  word  a  dozen  ready 
hands  put  each  command  into  action.  The  narrow,  easy-mov- 
ing ya^ht  caught  the  current;  a  long  tier  of  white  oars  glinted 
in  the  torchlight,  smcte  the  water,  and  the  yacht  bounded 
away,  while  a  parting  flight  of  arrows  left  misery  and  death 
upon  the  quay. 

Agias,  sorely  bewildered,  clambered  on  to  the  little  poop. 
His  cousin  stood  grasping  one  of  the  steering  paddies;  the 
ruddy  lantern  light  gleamed  on  the  pirate's  frame  and  face, 
and  made  him  the  perfect  personification  of  a  sea-king;  he 
was  some  grandly  stern  Poseidon,  the  "  Storm-gatherer »' and 
the  "Earth-shaker."  When  he  spoke  to  Agias,  it  was  in  the 
tone  of  a  despot  to  a  subject. 

"  Th-?  lady  is  below.  Yj.  co  her.  You  are  to  care  for  her  until 
I  rejoin  my  fleet.  Tell  her  my  sister  shall  not  be  more  hon- 
oured than  she,  nor  otherwise  treated.  When  I  am  aboard  my 
flag-ship,  she  shall  have  proper  maids  and  attendance.     Go!" 

Agias  obeyed,  saying  nothing.  He  found  Fabia  lying  on  a 
rude  pallet,  with  a  small  bale  of  purple  silk  thrust  under  her 
head  for  a  pillow.  She  stared  at  him  with  wild,  frightened 
eyes,  then  round  the  little  cabin,  which,  while  bereft  of  all 
but  the  most  necessary  comforts,  was  decorated  with  bejeweled 
armour,  golden  lamps,  costly  Indian  tapestries  and  ivory  — 
the  trophies  of  half  a  score  of  voyages. 

"Agias,"  she  faintly  whispered,  "tell  me  what  has  happened 
since  I  awoke  from  my  sleep  and  found  Gabinius's  ruffians 


HOW  POMPEIUS  STAMPED  WITH   HIS  FEET    361 


about  me.  By  whatsoever  god  you  reverence  most,  speak 
truly!" 

Agias  fell  on  his  knees,  kissed  the  hem  of  her  robe,  kissed 
her  hands.  Then  he  told  her  all,  — as  well  as  his  own  sorely 
confused  wits  would  admit.  Fabia  heard  him  through  to  the 
end,  then  laid  her  face  between  her  hands. 

"  Would  that  —  would  that  they  h-.d  murdered  me  as  they 
wished!  It  would  be  all  over  now,"  she  agonized.  "I  have 
no  wish  again  to  see  the  light.  Whether  they  believe  me 
innocent  or  guilty  of  the  charge  is  little;  I  can  never  be  happy 
again." 

"  And  why  not,  dear  lady?  "  cried  Agias. 

"Don't  ask  me!  I  do  not  know.  I  do  not  know  anything! 
Leave  me !  It  is  not  fit  that  you  should  see  me  crying  like  a 
child.    Leave  me !    Leave  me ! " 

And  thus  conjured,  Agias  went  up  to  the  poop  once  more. 

The  yacht  was  flying  down  the  current  under  her  powerful 
oarage.  Demetrius  was  still  standing  with  his  hands  fixed  on 
the  steering  paddle;  his  gaze  was  drifting  along  in  the  plashing 
water.  The  shadowy  outlines  of  the  great  city  had  vanished; 
the  yacht  was  well  on  her  way  down  the  river  to  C.  "a.  Save 
for  the  need  to  avoid  a  t^lated  merchantman  anchored  in  mid- 
stream for  the  night,  there  was  little  requiring  the  master's 
skill.     Agiasrtold  his  cousin  how  Fabia  had  sent  him  away. 

"  ^  /  Poor  lady !  "  replied  the  pirate,  "  perhaps  she  was  the 
Vestal  I  saw  a  few  days  since,  and  envied  her,  to  see  the  con- 
suls' lictors  lowering  their  rods  to  her,  and  all  the  people 
making  way  before  her;  she,  protected  by  the  whole  might  of 
this  terrible  Roman  people,  and  honoured  by  them  all;  and  I, 
a  poor  outlaw,  massing  gold  whereof  I  have  no  need,  slaying 
men  when  I  would  be  their  friend,  Avith  only  an  open  sea  and 
a  few  planks  for  native  land.     And  now,  see  how  the  Fates 


ill 


362 


A  FRIEND  OF  C.ESAB 


bring  her  down  so  low,  that  at  my  hands  she  receives  hospi- 
tahty,  nay,  life!"  ^ 

"You  did  not  seem  so  very  loath  to  shed  blood  to-nieht  " 
commented  Agias,  dryly,  ' 

"  No,  by  Zeus ! "  was  his  frank  answer.     "  It  is  easy  to  send 
men  over  the  Styx  after  having  been  Charon's  substitute  for  so 
many  years.     But  the  trade  was  not  pleasant  to  learn,  and 
bless  the  gods,  you  may  not  have  to  be  apprenticed  to  it." 

"  Then  you  will  not  take  me  with  you  in  your  rover's  life^  » 
asked  Agias,  half-disappointedly. 

"  Apollo  forbid !    I  will  take  you  and  the  lady  to  some  place 
where  she  can  be  safe  until  she  may  return  vindicated,  and 
where  you  can  earn  an  honest  livelihood,  marry  a  wife  of 
station,  m  accordance  with  the  means  which  I  shall  give  you 
dwell  peaceably,  and  be  happy."  ' 

"But  I  cannot  accept  your  present,"  protested  the  younger 
Greek.  " 

JPhuil  What  use  have  I  of  money?  To  paraphrase 
^schylus:  'For  more  of  money  than  I  would  is  mine.'  I 
can't  eat  it,  or  beat  swords  out  of  gold,  or  repair  my  ships 
therewith." 

"Then  why  amass  it  at  all?" 

"  Why  drink  when  you  know  it  is  better  to  keep  sober^    I 
can  no  more  stop  plundering  than  a  toper  leave  a  wine-jar 
Besides,  perhaps  some  day  I  may  see  a  road  to  amnesty  open, 
—  and,  then,  what  will  not  money  do  for  a  man  or  woman?"  ' 

"Quintus  Drusus,  my  patron,  the  Lady  Cornelia,  and  the 
Lady  Fabia  all  are  rich.  But  I  would  not  take  up  their 
sorrows  for  all  their  wealth." 

^   "True,"  and  Demetrius  stared  down  into  the  inky  water. 

♦It  will  not  give  back  those  who  are  gone  forever.     Achilles 

could  ask  Heph^stus  for  his  armour,  but  he  could  not  put 


HOW  POMPEIUS   STAMPED   WITH   HIS  FEET     363 

breath  into  the  body  of  Patroclus.     Plutus  and  Cratua  ^  are, 
after  all,  but  weaklings.     A!    This  is  an  unequal  world!  " 

When  Agias  fell  asleep  that  night,  or  rather  tliat  morning, 
on  a  hard  seaman's  pallet,  two  names  were  stirring  in  his  heart, 
names  inextricably  connected :  Cornelia,  whom  he  had  promised 
Quintus  Drusus  to  save  from  Ahenobarbus's  clutches,  and  Arte- 
misia. In  the  morning  the  yacht,  having  run  her  sixteen 
miles  to  Ostia,  stood  out  to  sea,  naught  hindering. 

It  was  two  months  later  when  Quintus  Drusus  reentered 
Rome,  no  more  a  fugitive,  but  a  trusted  staff  officer  of  the 
lawfully  appointed  dictator  Julius  Caesar.    He  had  taken  part 
in  a  desperate  struggle  around  Corfinium,  where  his  general 
had  cut  off  and  captured  the  army  with  which  Domitius  had 
aimed  to  check  his   advance.      Drusus   had   been  severely 
wounded,  and  had  not  recovered  in  time  to  participate  in  the 
futile  siege  of  Brundusium,  wheu  Csesar  vainly  strove  to  pre- 
vent Pompeius's  flight  across  the  sea  to  Greece.     Soon  as  he 
■<-  s  :>/  avalescent,  the  young  officer  had  hurried  away  to  Rome ; 
■e  he  was  met  by  a  story  concerning  his  aunt,  whereof 
^iial  explanation  seemed  possible.      And  when,  upon 
xuystery,  was  added  a  tale  he  received  from  Baiae,  he 
marvelled,  yet  dreaded,  the  more. 

1  Bicbes  and  strength. 


,      r 


CHAPTER  XIX 


vK. 


THE    HOSPITALITY    OP    DEMETRIUS 


While  grave  senators  were  contending,  tribunes  haranguing 
imperators  girding  o^  the  sword,  legions  marching,  cohorts 
clashing,_while  all  this  history  was '  eing  made  in  the  outside 
world,  Cornelia,  very  desolate,  very  lonely,  was  enduring  her 
imprisonment  at  Baise. 

If  she  had  had  manacles  on  her  wrists  and  fetters  on  her 
feet,  she  would  not  have  been  the  more  a  prisoner.    Lentulus 
Cms  had  determined,  with  the  same  grim  tenacity  of  purpose 
which  led  him  to  plunge  a  world  into  war,  that  his  niece  should 
comply  with  his  will  and  marry  Lucius  Ahenobarbus.    He  sen 
down  to  Baiae,  Phaon,-the  evil-eyed  freedman  of  Ahenobar- 
bus,  — and  gave  to  that  worthy  full  power  to  do  anything  he 
wished  to  break  the  will  of  his  prospective  patroness.    Cassan- 
dra  had  been  taken  away  from  Cornelia  — she  could  not  learn 
so  much  as  whether  the  woman  had  been  scourged  to  death  for 
arranging  the  interview  with  Drusus,  or  no.     Two  ill-favoured 
slatternly  Gallic  maids,  the  scourings  of  the   Puteoli  slave- 
market,  had  been  forced  upon  Cornelia  as  her  attendants - 
creatures  who  stood  in  abject  fear  of  the  whip  of  Phaon,  and 
who  obeyed  his  mandates  to  the  letter.     Cornelia  was  never  out 
of  sight  of  some  person  whom  she  knew  was  devoted  to  Lentu- 
lus, or  rather  to  Phaon  and  his  patron.     She  received  no  htters 

364 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS         365 

save  those  from  her  mother,  uncle,  or  Ahenobarbus;  she  saw  no 
visitors ;  she  was  not  allowed  to  go  outside  of  the  waUs  of  the 
villa,  nor  indeed  upou  ar-  of  its  terraces  where  she  would  be  ex- 
posed  to  sight  from  without,  whether  by  land  or  sea.  At  every 
step,  at  every  motion,  she  was  confronted  with  the  barriers 
built  around  her,  and  by  the  consciousness  that,  so  long  as  she 
persisted  in  her  present  attitude,  her  durance  was  likely  to 
continue  unrelaxed. 

Cornelia  was  thirsty  for  the  news  from  the  world  without. 
Her  keepers  were  dumb  to  the  most  harmless  inquiry.  Her 
mother  wrote  more  of  the  latest  fashions  than  of  the  progress 
of  events  in  the  Senate  and  in  the  field;  besides,  Claudia  — as 
Cornelia  knew  very  well  —  never  took  her  political  notions  from 
any  one  except  her  brother-in-law,  and  Cornelia  noted  her 
mother's  rambling  observations  accordingly.  Lentulus  studi- 
ously  refrained  from  adverting  to  politics  in  letters  to  his  niece. 
Ahenobarbus  wro^e  of  wars  and  rumours  of  wars,  but  in  a  tone 
of  such  partisan  venom  and  overreaching  sarcasm  touching  all 
things  Caes  -ian,  that  Cornelia  did  not  need  her  prejudices  to 
tell  her  tha      ucius  was  simply  abusing  her  credulity. 

Then  at  laat  all  the  letters  stopped.  Phaon  had  no  explana. 
tion  to  give.  He  would  not  suffer  his  evil,  smiling  lips  to  tell 
the  itory  of  the  flight  of  the  oligarchs  from  Rome,  and  confess 
that  Lentulus  afiid  Claudia  were  no  farther  off  than  Capua. 
The  consul  had  ordered  that  his  niece  should  not  know  of 
their  proximity  and  its  cause,  — lest  she  pluck  up  hope,  and 
all  his  coercion  be  wasted.  So  there  was  silence,  and  that  was 
all.  Even  her  moth  did  not  write  to  her.  Cornelia  grew 
very,  very  lonely  and  desolate— more  than  words  may  tell. 
She  had  one  consolation  — D/usus  was  not  dead,  or  she  would 
have  been  informed  of  it!  Proof  that  her  lover  was  dead 
would  have  been  a  mobt  delightful  weapon  in  Lentulus's  hands, 


W:- 


i  .1 


! 


366 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


too  delightful  to  fail  to  use  instantly.  And  so  Cornelia 
hoped  on. 

She  tried  again  to  build  a  world  of  fantasy,  of  unreal  de- 
light, around  her ;  to  close  her  eyes,  and  wander  abroad  with 
her  imagination.  She  roamed  in  reverie  over  land  and  sea, 
from  Atlantis  to  Serica;  and  dwelt  in  the  dull  country  of 
the  Hyperboreans  and  saw  the  gold-sanded  plains  of  the  Ethi- 
ops.  She  took  her  Homer  and  fared  with  Odysseus  into 
Polyphemus's  cave,  and  out  to  the  land  of  Circe ;  and  heard  the 
Sirens  sing,  and  abode  on  Calypso's  fairy  isle ;  and  saw  the 
maif)"n  Nausicaa  and  her  maids  at  the  ball-play  on  the  marge 
of  th.  bream.  But  it  was  sorry  work;  for  ever  and  again  the 
dream-woven  mist  would  break,  and  the  present  —  stern, 
unchanging,  joyless  —  she  would  see,  and  that  only. 

Cornelia  was  thrown  more  and  more  back  on  her  books.  In 
fact,  had  she  been  deprived  of  that  diversion,  she  must  have 
succumbed  in  sheer  wretchedness ;  but  Phaon,  for  all  his  crafty 
guile,  did  not  realize  that  a  roll  of  vEschylus  did  almost  as 
much  to  undo  his  jailer's  work  as  a  traitor  among  his  underlings. 

The  library  was  a  capacious,  well-lighted  room,  prettily  fres- 
coed, and  provided  with  comfortably  upholstered  couches.  In 
the  niches  were  a  few  choice  busts :  a  Sophocles,  a  Xenophon, 
an  Ennius,  and  one  or  two  others.  Around  the  room  in  wooden 
presses  were  the  rolled  volumes  on  Egyptian  papyrus,  each 
labelled  with  author  and  title  in  bright  red  marked  on  the 
tablet  attached  to  the  i.ider  of  the  roll.  Here  were  the 
poets  and  historians  of  Hellas;  the  works  of  Plato,  Aristotle, 
Callimachus,  Apollonius  Rhodius  and  the  later  Greek  philoso- 
phers. Here,  too,  were  books  which  the  Greek-hating  young 
lady  loved  best  of  all  —  the  rough  metres  of  Livius  Andronicus 
and  Cnaeus  i^aevius,  whose  uncouth  lines  of  the  old  Saturnian 
verse  breathed  of  the  hale,  hearty,  uncultured,  uncorrupted  1  .f e  of 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  PEMETRIUS  367 

;he  period  of  the  First  Punic  War.  Beside  them  were  the  other 
great  Latinists:  Ennius,  Plautus,  Terence,  and  furthermore, 
Pacuvius  and  Gate  Major,  Lucilius,  the  memoirs  of  Sulla,  the 
orations  of  Antonius  «the  orator"  and  Gracchu«<,  and  the  histo- 
ries  of  Claudius  Quadrigarius  and  Valerius  A     las. 

The  library  became  virtually  Cornelia's  t  Jon.  She  read 
tragedy,  comedy,  history,  philosophy,  —  any tning  to  drive  from 
her  breast  her  arch  ene.ay,  thought.  But  if,  for  example,  she 
turned  to  ApoUonius  Rhodius  and  read 

"  Amidst  thern  ,11,  the  son  of  .^on  chief 
Shone  forth  dirinely  in  his  comeliness, 
And  graces  of  his  form.    On  him  the  maid 
Looked  still  askance,  and  gazed  him  o'er ; " » 

Straightway  she  herself  became  Medea,  Jason  took  on  the  form 
of  Drusus,  and  she  would  read  no  more;  "while,"  as  the 
next  line  of  the  learned  poet  had  it,  "grief  consumed  her 
heart." 

Only  one  other  recreation  wa.-;  left  her.  Artemir^a  had  not 
been  taken  away  by  Piiaon,  who  decidea  v'lat  the  gi.  as  quite 
impotent  to  thwart  his  ends.  Cornelia  devcfed  m  .^  of  her 
time  to  teaching  the  bright  little  Greek.  Th"  latter  picked  up 
the  scraps  of  knowledge  with  a  surprising  re;  .ii.ess,  and  would 
Sfct  Cornelia  a-laughing  by  her  nair  '-  when  sLo  soberly  inter 
mixed  her  speech  with  bits  of  grave  poetical  and  philosophical 
lore,  uttered  more  for  sake  of  sound  than  sense. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  Cornelia  was  fast  approaching 
a  point  where  her  position  would  have  been  intolera  jle.  She 
did  not  even  have  the  stimulus  that  comes  from  an  active 
aggressive  persecution.  Drusus  was  in  the  world  of  action, 
not  forgetful  of  his  sweetheart,  yet  not  pent  up  to  solitary 
broodings  on  his  ill-fated  passion.    Corneli.i  was  thrust  back 

1  Elton,  translator. 


368 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


i  ;1 


11 


upon  herself,  and  found  herself  a  very  discontented,  wretched, 
love-lorn,  and  withal  —  despite  her  polite  learning — ignorant 
young  woman,  who  took  pleasure  neither  in  sunlight  nor  star- 
light; who  saw  a  mocking  defiance  in  every  dimple  of  the 
sapphire  bay ;  who  saw  in  each  new  day  merely  a  new  period 
for  impotent  discontent.  Something  had  to  determine  her  situ- 
ation, or  perhaps  she  would  not  indeed  have  bowed  hf  r  head  to 
her  uncle's  will ;  but  she  certainly  would  have  been  driven  to 
resolutions  of  the  most  desperate  nature. 

Cornelia  had  practically  lost  reckoning  of  time  and  seasons. 
She  had  ceased  hoping  for  a  letter  from  her  mother ;  even  a 
taunting  missive  from  Ahenobarbus  would  have  been  a  diversion. 
She  was  so  closely  guarded  that  she  found  herself  praying  that 
Drusus  would  not  try  to  steal  a  second  interview,  for  the  attempt 
might  end  in  his  murder.  Only  one  stray  crumb  of  comfort  at 
last  did  she  obtain,  and  it  was  Artemisia  who  brought  it  to 
her.  The  girl  had  been  allowed  by  Phaon  to  walk  outside  the 
grounds  of  the  villa  for  a  little  way,  and  her  pretty  face  had 
won  the  good  graces  of  one  or  two  slave-boys  in  an  adjoining 
seaside  house.  Artemisia  came  back  full  of  news  which  they 
had  imparted:  the  consuls  had  fled  from  Rome;  Pompeius 
was  retreating  before  Caesar;  the  latest  rumour  had  it  that 
Domitius  was  shut  up  in  Corfinium  and  likely  to  come  off 
hardly. 

The  words  were  precious  as  rubies  to  Cornelia.  She  went 
all  that  day  and  the  next  with  her  head  in  the  air.  Perhaps 
with  a  lover's  subtle  omniscience  she  imagined  that  it  was 
Drusus  who  had  some  part  in  bringing  Domitius  to  bay.  She 
pictured  the  hour  when  he  —  with  a  legion  no  doubt  at  his 
back  —  would  come  to  Baiae,  not  a  stealthy,  forbidden  lover, 
but  a  conqueror,  splendid  in  the  triumph  of  his  arms ;  would 
enter  the  villa  with  a  strong  hand,  and  lead  her  forth  in  the 


Kiiita^ 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS  369 


eyes  of  all  the  world  —  his  wife !  and  then  back  to  Praeneste, 
to  Rome — happy  as  the  Immortals  on  Olympus;  and  what 
came  after,  Cornelia  neither  thought  nor  cared. 

On  those  days  the  sea  was  lovely,  the  sunlight  fair,  and  all 
the  circling  sea-gulls  as  they  hovered  over  the  waves  cried 
shrilly  one  to  the  other ;  «  How  good  is  all  the  world ! "  And 
then,  just  as  Cornelia  was  beginning  to  count  the  hours,  —  to 
wonder  whether  it  would  be  one  day  or  ten  before  Drusus 
would  be  sufficiently  at  liberty  to  ride  over  hill  and  dale  to 
Baiae,  —  Phaon  thrust  himself  upon  her. 

"Your  ladyship,"  was  his  curt  statement,  "will  have  all 
things  prepared  in  readiness  to  take  ship  for  Greece,  to-mor- 
row morning." 

"  For  Greece !  "  was  the  agonized  exclamation. 

"  Certainly ;  it  is  useless  to  conceal  matters  from  your  lady- 
ship now.  Caesar  has  swept  all  Italy.  Corfinium  may  fall  at 
any  time.  His  excellency  the  consul  Lentulus  is  now  at 
Brundusium.  He  orders  me  to  put  you  on  board  a  vessel  that 
has  just  finished  her  lading  for  the  Piraeus." 

This  then  was  the  end  of  all  those  glittering  day-dreams  I 
Caesar's  victories  only  would  transfer  Cornelia  to  a  more  secure 
bondage.  She  had  enough  pride  left  not  to  moan  aloud  and 
plead  with  an  animal  like  Phaon  not  to  crush  her  utterly.  In 
fact  she  was  bentftnbed,  and  did  not  fully  sense  the  changed 
situation.  She  went  through  a  mechanical  process  of  collect- 
ing her  wardrobe,  of  putting  her  jewellery  in  cases  and  boxes, 
of  laying  aside  for  carriage  a  few  necessaries  for  Artemisia. 
Phaon,  who  had  expected  a  terrible  scene  when  he  made  his 
announcement,  observed  to  himself  that,  "  The  domina  is  more 
sensible  than  I  supjwsed.  I  think  her  uncle  will  have  his 
way  now  soon  enough,  if  Master  Lucius  does  not  get  his  throat 
cut  at  Corfinium."  And  having  thus  concluded  to  himself,  — 
2b 


370 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


J'^ 


satisfactorily,  if  erroneously,  —  he,  too,  made  arrangements  foi 
the  voyage  impending- 

II 

Cornelia's  sleeping  room  was  large  and  airy.  It  had  win- 
dows  overlooking  the  sea  — windows  closed  by  the  then  extrav- 
agant luxury  of  panes  of  glass.  When  these  were  swung  back 
the  full  sweep  of  the  southwest  wind  poured  its  mild  freshness 
into  the  room.  The  apartment  was  decorated  and  furnished 
with  every  taste  and  luxury.  In  one  corner  was  the  occupant's 
couch,  —  the  frame  inlaid  with  ivory  and  tortoise-shell,  the 
mattress  soft  with  the  very  choicest  feathers  of  white  German 
geese.  Heaped  on  the  cushion  were  gorgeous  coverlets,  of 
purple  wool  or  even  silk,  and  embroidered  with  elaborate  fig- 
ures, or  covered  with  rare  feather  tapestry.  Around  the  room 
were  silver  mirrors,  chairs,  divans,  cabinets,  dressers,  and  ele- 
gant tripods. 

On  one  of  the  divans  slept  Artemisia,  and  just  outside  of 
the  door  one  of  the  Gallic  maids,  whom  Cornelia  detested  so 
heartily. 

When  Artemisia's  curly  head  -^uched  her  pillow,  its  owner 
was  fast  asleep  in  an  instant.  xVhen  her  patroness  sank  back 
on  the  cushions  worth  a  king's  ransom,  Somnus,  Hypnus,  or 
whatever  name  the  drowsy  god  may  be  called  by,  was  far  from 
present.  Cornelia  tossed  on  the  pillows,  tossed  and  cried 
softly  to  herself.  The  battle  was  too  hard !  She  L  id  tried : 
tried  to  be  true  to  Drusus  and  her  own  higher  aspirations.  But 
there  was  some  limit  to  her  strength,  and  Cornelia  felt  that 
limit  very  near  at  hand.  Earlier  in  the  conflict  with  her  uncle 
she  had  exulted  in  the  idea  that  suicide  wp  always  in  her 
power;  now  she  trembled  at  the  thought  of  death,  at  the 
thought  of  everything  contained  in  the  unlovely  future.    She 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS         371 


did  not  want  to  die,  to  flicker  out  in  nothingness,  never  to 
smile  and  never  to  laugh  again.  Why  should  she  not  be  happy 
—  rightly  happy  ?  Was  she  not  a  Cornelian,  a  Claudian,  born  to 
a  position  that  a  priicess  might  enjoy  ?  Was  not  wealth  hers, 
and  a  fair  degree  of  wit  and  a  handsome  face  ?  Why  then 
should  she,  the  patrician  maiden,  eat  her  heart  out,  while  close 
at  hand  A^temi8i^  poor  little  foundling  Greek,  was  sleeping 
as  sweetly  as  though  people  never  grieved  nor  sorrows  tore  the 
soul? 

Cornelia  was  almost  angry  with  Artemisia  for  being  thus 
oblivious  to  and  shielded  from  calamity.  So  hot  in  fact  did  her 
indignation  become  against  the  innocent  girl,  that  Cornelia  her- 
self began  to  smile  at  her  own  passion.  And  there  was  one 
thought  very  comforting  to  her  pride. 

"  Artemisi'i.  is  only  an  uneducated  slave,  or  little  better  than 
a  slave;  if  she  were  in  my  station  she  would  be  just  as 
unhappy.  I  am  wretched  just  in  proportion  to  the  greatness 
of  my  rank;"  then  she  added  to  herself,  "Hei!  but  how 
wretched  then  the  gods  must  be !  "  And  then  again  she 
smiled  at  admitting  for  an  instant  that  there  were  any  gods  at 
all ;  had  not  her  philosophy  taught  htr  much  better  ? 

So  at  last  Cornelia  turned  over  the  pillows  for  the  last  time, 
and  finally  slept,  in  heavy,  dreamless  slumber. 

♦**^***#**# 

Cornelia  did  not  know  at  what  watch  of  the  night  she  awoke ; 
awoke,  not  suddenly,  but  slowly,  as  consciousness  stole  over  her 
that  something  was  happening.  It  was  a  dark,  cloudy  night, 
yet  a  strange  red  light  was  glinting  faintly  through  the  win- 
dows and  making  very  dim  panels  on  the  rugs  of  the  floor. 
There  was  a  bare  gleam  of  fire  from  the  charcoal  in  the  porta- 
ble metal  stove  that  stood  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  room  to 
dispel  the  chill  of  night.    Artemisia  was  stirring  in  her  sleep, 


I 

1^1  ■ 

it: 

372 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


m 


and  saying  something— probably  in  a  one-sided  dream-dia- 
logue.  Cornelia  opened  her  eyes,  shut  them  again ;  peeped 
forth  a  second  time,  and  sat  up  in  bed.  There  was  a  confused 
din  without,  many  voices  speaking  at  once,  all  quite  unintelli- 
gible,  though  now  and  then  she  caught  a  few  syllables  of 
Greek.  The  din  grew  louder  and  louder.  At  the  same  time, 
as  if  directly  connected  with  the  babel,  the  strange  light  flamed 
up  more  brightly  —  as  if  from  many  advancing  torches.  Cor- 
nelia shook  the  sleep  from  her  eyes,  and  flung  back  the  cover- 
lets. What  was  it?  She  had  not  yet  reached  the  stage  of 
feeling  any  terror, 

Suddenly,  drowning  all  lesser  noise,  came  the  blows  of  a  heavy 
timber  beating  on  the  main  door  of  the  villa. 

Crash !  and  with  the  stroke,  a  torrent  of  wild  shouts,  oaths, 
and  imprecations  burst  forth  from  many  score  throats. 

Crash !  The  slaves  sleeping  near  the  front  door  began  to 
howl  and  shout.  The  great  Molossian  hound  that  stood  watcn 
was  barking  and  snapping.  The  Gallic  maid  sprang  from  her 
pallet  by  Cornelia's  door,  and  gave  a  shrill,  piercing  scream. 
Artemisia  was  sitting  up  on  her  bed,  rubbing  her  eyes,  blink- 
ing at  the  strange  light,  and  about  to  begin  to  cry.  Cornelia 
ran  over  the  floor  to  her. 

"A!  A  I  what  is  going  to  happen ! »  whimpered  the  girl. 

"  I  do  not  know,  phihtata," »  said  Cornelia  in  Greek,  putting 
her  hand  on  Artemisia's  cheek;  "but  don't  cry,  and  I'll  soon 
find  out." 

Crash !  and  at  this  the  door  could  be  heard  to  fall  inward. 
Then,  with  yells  of  triumph  and  passion,  there  was  a  great 
sweep  of  feet  over  the  threshold,  and  the  clang  of  weapons  and 
armour.  Cornelia  found  herself  beginning  to  tremble.  As  she 
stepped  across  the  room,  she  passed  before  her  largest  mirror, 

1  Dearest  one. 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS         373 

whereon  the  outsid?  light  was  shining  directly.  She  saw  herself 
for  an  instant ;  her  hair  streaming  down  her  back,  her  only  dress 
her  loose  white  tunic,  her  arms  bare,  and  nothing  on  her  throat 
except  a  string  of  yellow  amber  beads.  "  And  my  feet  are 
bare,"  she  added  to  herself,  diverted  from  her  panic  by  her 
womanly  embarrassment.  She  advanced  ^oward  the  door,  but 
had  not  long  to  wait.  Down  below  the  inv.  lers  had  burst  loose 
in  wild  pillage,  then  up  into  the  sleeping  room  came  flying 
aman  — Phaon,  his  teeth  chattering,  his  face  ghastly  with 
fright. 

"Domina!  domina!"  and  he  knelt  and  seized  Cornelia's 
robe.  "Save,  ^/  save!  We  are  undone!  Pi-ates !  They 
will  kill  u,^  all !    Mu  !  mu !  don't  let  them  murder  me !  " 

A  moment  longer  and  Cornelia,  in  her  rising  contempt, 
would  have  spurned  him  with  her  foot.  There  were  more 
feet  on  the  stairway.  Glaring  torches  were  tossing  over  gold 
inlaid  armour.  A  man  of  unusual  height  and  physique  strode 
at  the  head  of  the  oncomers,  clutching  and  dragging  by  the 
wrist  a  quiver:  ag  slave-boy. 

"Your  mistress,  boy !  where  is  she?  Point  quickly,  if  you 
would  not  die ! "  t.icd  the  invader,  whom  we  ."hall  at  once 
recognize  as  Demetrius. 

Cornelia  advanced  to  the  doorway,  and  stood  in  her  maid- 
enly  dignity,  confronting  the  pirates,  who  fell  back  a  step,  as 
though  before  an  apparition. 

"  I  am  the  Lady  Cornelia,  mistress  of  the  villa,"  she  said 
slowly,  speaking  in  tones  of  high  command.  "On  what 
errand  do  you  come  thus  unseasonably,  and  with  violence  ?  " 

^Vhereat,  out  from  the  little  group  of  armed  men  sprang 
one  clad  in  costly,  jewel-set  annour,  like  the  rest,  but  shorter 
than  the  others,  and  with  fair  hair  flr—ing  down  from  his 
helmeJ  ou  to  his  shoulders. 


/;- 


i;. 


»  ;| 


I) 


■,h. 


374 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAB 


I! 


ii 


"  Domina,  do  you  not  know  me  ?    Do  not  be  afraid." 

"  Agias ! ''  cried  Cornelia,  in  turn  giving  back  a  step. 

"Assuredly,"  quoth  tae  young  Hellene,  nothing  dismi>,y3d; 
"  and  with  your  leave,  this  great  man  is  Demetrius,  my  cousin, 
whose  trade,  perchance,  is  a  little  irregular,  but  who  has  come 
hither  not  so  much  to  plunder  as  to  save  you  from  the  clutches 
of  his  arch-enemy's  son,  Lucius  Ahenobarbus." 

Cornelia  staggered,  and  caught  the  curtain  in  the  doorway 
to  keep  from  falling. 

"Has  Master  Drusus  sent  him  to  me?"  she  asked,  very 
pale  around  the  lips. 

"  Master  Drusus  is  at  Corfinium.  No  one  knows  what  will 
be  the  issue  of  the  war,  for  Pompeius  is  making  off.  It  is  I 
who  counselled  my  cousin  to  come  to  Baiae." 

"  Then  what  will  you  do  with  me  ?  How  may  I  dare  to 
trust  you  ?  Deliver  myself  into  the  hands  of  pirates !  Ah ! 
Agias,  I  did  not  think  that  you  would  turn  to  such  a  trade ! " 

The  youth  flushed  visibly,  even  under  the  ruddy  torchlight. 

"Oh,  lady,"  he  cried,  "have  I  not  always  been  true  to 
you?  I  am  no  pirate,  and  you  will  not  blame  my  cousin, 
when  you  have  heard  his  story.  But  do  not  fear  us.  Come 
down  to  the  ship  —  Fabia  is  there,  waiting  for  you." 

"Fabia!"  and  again  Cornelia  was  startled.     Then,  fixing 
her  deep  gaze  ^ull  on  Agias,  "  I  believe  you  speak  the  truth 
If  not  you — whom  ?    Take  —  take  me ! " 

And  she  fell  forward  in  a  swoon,  and  Demetrius  caught  her 
in  1"  3  powerful  arms. 

"  This  is  the  affianced  wife  of  Quintus  Drusus  ?  "  he  cried 
to  Agias. 

"  None  other." 

"She  is  worthy  of  Sextus's  son.  A  right  brave  lady!" 
cried  the  pirate.    "  But  this  is  no  place  for  her,  poor  thing 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS         375 

Here,  Eurybiades,"  and  he  addressed  a  lieutenant,  —  an  ath- 
letic, handsome  Hellene  like  himself, —  «  carry  the  lady  down 
to  the  landing,  put  her  on  the  trireme,  and  give  her  to  Madam 
Fabia.    Mind  you  lift  her  gently.*' 

"  ]S"over  fear,"  replied  the  other,  pickmg  up  his  burden  care- 
fully. "Who  would  not  delight  to  bear  Aphrodite  io  the 
arms  of  Artemis ! " 

And  so  for  a  while  sight,  sound,  ani  feeling  were  at  an  end 
for  Cornelia,  but  for  Agias  the  adven.ures  of  the  evening  were 
but  just  begun.  The  pirates  had  broken  loose  in  the  villa, 
and  Demetrius  made  not  the  slightest  effort  to  restrain  them. 
On  into  the  deserted  bedroom,  ahead  of  the  others,  for  reasons 
of  his  own,  rushed  Agias.  As  he  ca  .ae  in,  some  one  cried  out 
his  name,  and  a  second  vision  in  white  confronted  him. 

"At!  ai!  Agias,  I  knew  you  would  come!"  and  then  and 
there,  with  the  sword-blades  glinting,  and  the  a  med  men  all 
around,  Artemisia  tossed  L  r  plump  arms  around  his  neck. 

"The  nymph,  attendant  on  Aphrodite!"  cried  Demetrius, 
laughing.  And  then,  when  Artemisia  saw  the  strange  throng 
and  the  torches,  and  heard  the  din  over  the  villa,  she  hung 
down  her  head  in  mingled  fear  and  mortification.  But  Agias 
whispered  something  in  her  ear,  that  made  her  lift  her  face, 
laughing,  and  then  he  in  turn  caught  her  up  in  his  arms  to 
hasten  down  tp  the  landing  — for  the  scene  was  becoming  one 
of  little  profit  for  a  maid.  Groans  and  entreaties  checked 
him.  Two  powerful  Phoenician  seamen  were  dragging  for- 
ward Phaon,  half  clothed,  trembling  at  every  joint.  "  Mercy  ! 
Mercy !  Oh  !  Master  Agias,  oh !  Your  excellency,  darissime,^ 
despotes!^"  whined  the  wretched  man,  now  in  Latin,  now 
in  Greek,  "  ask  them  to  spare  me  j  don't  let  them  murder  me 
in  cold  blood  ! ' 


i   { 


*  Very  distinguished  sir. 


*  Master. 


jL^i  ■ 


376 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


't! 


"Ai!"  cried  Demetrius.    "What  fool  have  we  here?    Do 
you  know  him,  Agias  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  freedman  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus.  I  can  vouch 
for  his  character,  after  its  way." 

"0^!"^  thundered  the  chief,  "drag  him  down  to  the 
boats !    I'll  speak  with  him  later ! " 

And  Agias  carried  his  precious  burden  down  to  the  landing- 
place,  while  the  seamen  followed  with  their  captive. 

Once  Artemisia  safe  on  her  way  to  the  trireme,  which  was  a 
little  off  shore,  Agias  ran  back  to  the  villa ;  the  pirates  were 
ransacking  it  thoroughly.  Everything  that  could  be  of  the 
slightest  value  wa**  ruthlessly  seize  1  ipon,  everything  else 
recklessly  destroyed.  The  pirates  had  not  confined  their 
attack  to  the  Lentulan  residence  alone.  Rushing  down  upon 
the  no  less  elaborate  neighbouring  villas,  they  forced  in  the 
gates,  overcame  what  slight  opposition  the  trembling  slaves 
might  make,  and  gave  full  sway  to  their  passion  for  plunder 
and  rapine.  The  noble  ladies  and  fine  gentlemen  who  had 
dared  the  political  situation  and  lingered  late  in  the  season  to 
enjoy  the  pleasures  of  Baiae,  now  found  themselves  roughly 
dragged  away  into  captivity  to  enrich  the  freebooters  by  their 
ransoms.  From  pillage  the  pirates  turned  to  arson,  Deme- 
trius in  fact  making  no  effort  to  control  his  men.  First  a  frag- 
ile wooden  summer-house  caught  the  blaze  of  a  torch  and 
flared  up ;  then  a  villa  itself,  and  another  and  another.  The 
flames  shot  higher  and  higher,  great  glowing,  wavering  pyra- 
mids of  heat,  roaring  and  crackling,  flinging  a  red  circle  of 
glowing  light  in  toward  the  mainland  by  Cumae,  and  shim- 
mering out  over  the  bay  toward  Prochyta.  Overhead  was  the 
inky  dome  of  the  heavens,  and  below  fire ;  fire,  and  men  with 
passions  unreined. 

I  G^p — avMt  there. 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS 


377 


4  i' 


Demetrius  stood  on  the  terrace  of  the  burniilg  villa  of  the 
Lentuli,  barely  himself  out  of  range  of  the  raging  heat.  As 
Agias  came  near  to  him,  the  gilded  Medusa  head  emblazoned 
on  his  breastplate  glared  out;  the  loose  scarlet  mantle  he 
wore  under  his  armour  was  red  as  if  dipped  in  hot  blood  ;  he 
seemed  the  personification  of  Ares,  the  destroyer,  the  waster  of 
cities.  The  pirate  was  gazing  fixedly  on  the  blazing  wreck 
and  ruin.  His  firm  lips  were  set  with  an  expression  grave 
and  hard.  He  took  no  part  in  the  snnihilating  frenzy  of  his 
men. 

"  This  is  terrible  destruction ! "  cried  Agias  in  his  ear,  for 
the  roar  of  the  flames  was  deafening,  he  himself  beginning  to 
turn  sick  at  the  sight  of  the  ruin. 

"  It  is  frightful,"  replied  Demetrius,  gloomily ;  "  why  did  the 
gods  ever  drive  me  to  this  ?  My  men  are  but  children  to  exult 
as  they  do ;  as  boys  love  to  tear  the  thatch  from  the  roof  of  a 
useless  hovel,  in  sheer  wantonness.    I  cannot  restrain  them." 

At  this  instant  a  seaman  rushed  up  in  breathless  haste. 

"  Eleleu  !  Captain,  the  soldiers  are  on  us.  There  must  have 
been  a  cohort  in  Cumae." 

Whereat  the  voice  of  Demetrius  rang  above  the  shouts  of 
the  plunderers  and  the  crash  and  roar  of  the  conflagration,  like 
a  trumpet :  ■-»- 

"  Arms,  men  !  Gather  the  spoil  and  back  to  the  ships  ! 
Back  for  your  lives ! " 

Already  the  cohort  of  Pompeian  troops,  that  had  not  yet 
evacuated  Cumae,  was  coming  up  on  the  double-quick,  oasily 
guided  by  the  burning  buildings  which  made  the  vicinity 
bright  as  day.  The  pirates  ran  like  cats  out  of  the  blazing 
villas,  bounded  over  terraces  and  tvalls,  and  gathered  near 
the  landing-place  by  the  Lentulan  villa.  The  soldiers  were 
already  on  them.     For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  though  the 


'■  fl 


I  ill 


! 


J! 

ill 


378 


A  FRIEND  OF  C.*:SAE 


cohort,  was  about  to  drive  the  whole  swann  of  the  marauden 
over  the  sea-wall,  and  make  them  pay  dear  for  their  night's 
diversion.  But  the  masterly  energy  of  Demetrius  turned  the 
scale.  With  barely  a  score  of  men  behind  him,  he  charged 
the  nearest  century  so  impetuously  that  it  broke  like  water 
before  him;  ad  when  sheer  numbers  had  swept  his  little 
group  back,  the  other  pirates  had  rallied  on  the  very  brink  of 
the  sea-wall,  and  returned  to  the  charge. 

Never  was  battle  waged  more  desperately.  The  pirates 
knew  that  to  be  driven  back  meant  to  fall  over  a  high  embank- 
ment into  water  so  shallow  as  to  give  little  safety  in  a  dive ; 
capture  implied  crucifixion.  Their  only  hope  was  to  hold 
their  own  while  their  boats  took  them  off  to  the  ships  in 
small  detachments.  The  conflagration  made  the  narrow 
battle-field  as  bright  as  day.  The  soldiers  were  brave,  and  for 
new  recruits  moderately  disciplined.  The  pirates  could  hardly 
bear  up  under  the  crushing  discharge  of  darts,  and  the  steady 
onset  of  the  maniples.  Up  and  down  the  contest  raged, 
swaying  to  and  fro  like  the  waves  of  the  sea.  Again  and 
again  the  pirates  were  driven  so  near  to  the  brink  of  the  sea- 
wall that  one  or  two  would  fall,  dashed  to  instant  death  on  the 
submerged  rocks  below.  Demetrius  was  everywhere  at  once, 
as  it  were,  precisely  when  he  was  most  needed,  always  expos- 
ing himself,  always  aggressive.  Even  while  he  himself  fought 
for  dear  life,  Agias  admired  as  never  before  the  intelligently 
ordered  puissance  of  his  cousin. 

The  boats  to  and  from  the  landing  were  pulled  with  frantic 
energy.  The  ships  had  run  in  as  close  as  possible,  but  they 
could  not  use  their  halidae,^  for  fear  of  striking  down  friend  as 
well  as  foe.  As  relays  of  pirates  were  carried  away,  the  posi- 
tion of  the  remainder  became  the  more  desperate  with  their 
'  Missile-throwing  engines. 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS 


379 


lessening  numbers.  Tlie  boats  came  back  for  the  last  relay. 
Demetrius  drew  the  remnant  of  his  men  together,  and  charged 
80  furiously  that  the  whole  cohort  gave  way,  leaving  the  ground 
strewn  with  its  own  slain.  The  pirates  rushed  madly  aboard 
the  boats,  they  sunk  them  to  the  gunwales;  other  fugitives 
clung  to  the  oars.  At  perilous  risk  of  upsetting  they  thrust 
off,  just  as  the  rallied  soldiers  ran  down  to  the  landing-place. 
Demetrius  and  Agias  were  the  only  on3s  standing  on  the 
embankment.  They  had  been  the  last  to  retire,  and  therefore 
the  boats  had  filled  without  them. 

A  great  cry  went  up  from  the  pirates. 

"  Save  the  captain ! "  and  some  boats  began  to  back  water, 
loaded  as  they  were ;  but  Demetrius  motioned  them  back  with 
his  hand. 

"  Can  you  swim,  boy ! "  he  shouted  to  Agias,  while  both  tore 
off  their  body-armour.  Their  shields  had  already  dropped. 
Agias  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  My  arm  is  hurt,"  he  muttered. 

"  No  matter ! "  and  Demetrius  seized  his  cousin  under  one 
armpit,  and  stepped  down  from  the  little  landing-platform  into 
the  water  just  below.  A  single  powerful  stroke  sent  the  two 
out  of  reach  of  the  swing  of  the  sword  of  the  nearest  soldier. 
The  front  2\es  of  the  cohort  had  pressed  down  on  to  the  laud- 
ing in  a  dense  mass,  loath  to  let  go  its  prey. 

"  Let  fly,  men  ! "  cried  Demetrius,  as  he  swam,  and  javelins 
spat  into  the  water  about  him. 

It  was  a  cruel  thing  to  do.  The  three  pirate  vessels,  two 
large  triremes  and  the  yacht,  discharged  all  their  enginery. 
Heavy  stones  crashed  down  upon  the  soldiers,  crushing  several 
men  together.  Huge  arrows  tore  through  shield  and  armour, 
impaling  more  than  one  body.  It  was  impossible  to  miss 
working  havoc  in  so  close  a  thronp'         .     troops,  impotent 


ill 


I 


,    ! 


•  '! 


380 


A  FRIEND  OF  CESAR 


to  make  efifective  reply,  turned  in  panic  and  fled  toward 
the  upper  terraces  to  get  beyond  the  decimating  artillery. 
The  pirates  raised  a  great  shout  of  triumph  that  shook  the 
smoke-veiled  skies,  A  fresh  boat,  pulling  out  from  one  of 
the  vessels,  rescued  the  captain  and  Agias ;  and  soon  the  two 
cousin'-  were  safe  on  board  the  trireme  Demetrius  used  as  his 
flagship. 

The  pirates  swarmed  on  the  decks  and  rigging  and  cheered 
the  escape  of  their  commander.  On  shore  the  burning  build- 
ings were  still  sending  up  their  pillars  of  flame.  The  water 
and  sky  far  out  to  sea  were  red,  and  beyond,  blackness.  Again 
the  pirates  shouted,  then  at  the  order  of  their  commander  the 
cables  creaked,  the  anchors  rose,  hundreds  of  long  oars  flashed 
in  the  lurid  glare,  and  the  three  vessels  slipped  over  the  dark 
waves. 

Demetrius  remained  on  the  poop  of  his  ship;  Agias  was 
below  in  the  cabin,  bending  over  Artemisia,  who  was  already 
smiling  in  her  sleep. 


Ill 

When  Cornelia  awoke,  it  was  with  Fabia  bending  over  her 
at  the  bedside.  The  portholes  of  the  cabin  were  open;  the 
warm,  fresh  southern  wind  was  pouring  in  its  balmy  sweet- 
ness. Cornelia  pressed  her  hands  to  her  eyes,  then  looked 
forth.  The  cabin  ceiling  was  low,  but  studded  with  rare  orna- 
mental bronze  work ;  the  furniture  glittered  with  gilding  and 
the  smooth  sheen  of  polished  ivory ;  the  tapestry  of  the  cur- 
tains and  on  the  walls  was  of  the  choicest  scarlet  wool,  and 
Coan  silk,  semi-transparent  and  striped  with  gold.  Gold 
plating  shone  on  the  section  of  the  mast  enclosed  within  the 
cabin.     An  odour  of  the  rarest  Arabian  frankincense  was 


¥*t 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS 


381 


wafted  from  the  pastils  burning  on  a  curiously  wrought  tripod 
of  Corinthian  brass.  The  upholsteries  and  rugs  were  more 
splendid  than  any  that  Cornelia  had  seen  gracing  the  palace 
of  Roman  patrician. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Fabia  repeated  over  and  over  again 
to  Cornelia  the  talo  of  recent  happenings,  antil  the  latter's 
sorely  perturbed  brain  might  comprehend.  And  then,  when 
Cornelia  understojd  it  all :  how  that  she  was  not  to  go  to 
Greece  with  Phaon;  how  that  she  was  under  the  protection 
of  a  man  who  owed  his  life  to  Sextus  Drusus,  and  hated  the 
Ahenobarbi  with  a  perfect  hatred;  how  that  Demetrius  had 
sworn  to  carry  her  to  Alexandria,  where,  safe  out  of  the  way 
of  war  and  commotion,  she  might  await  the  hour  when  Drusus 
should  be  free  to  come  for  her  —  when,  we  repeat,  she  under- 
stood all  this,  and  how  it  came  to  pass  t':at  the  Vestal  herself 
was  on  the  vessel, — then  Cornelia  strained  Fabia  to  her  breast, 
and  laid  her  head  on  the  elder  woman's  shoulder,  and  cried 
and  cried  for  very  relief  of  soul.  Then  she  arose  and  let  the 
maids  Demetrius  had  sent  to  serve  her  —  dark-skinne  Hindoos, 
whose  words  were  few,  but  whose  fingers  quid-  and  dexterous 
—  dress  her  from  the  very  complete  wardrobe  that  the  sea 
prince  had  placed  at  her  disposal. 

Never  before^ had  the  sunlight  shone  so  fair;  never  before 
had  the  sniff  of  the  sea-breeze  been  so  sweet.  The  galleys  wer^ 
still  in  the  bay,  close  by  Prochyta,  scarce  a  mile  and  a  hai. 
from  t\  -i  nearest  mainland.  The  pirates  were  landing  to  pro- 
cure water  from  the  desolate,  unsettled  isle.  The  bay  was 
dancing  and  sparkling  with  ten  million  golden  ripples;  the 
sun  had  risen  high  enough  above  the  green  hills  of  the  eoast- 
land  to  spread  a  broad  pathway  of  shimmering  fire  across  the 
waters.  Not  a  cloud  flecked  the  light-bathed  azure.  Up  from 
the  forward  part  of  the  ships  sounded  the  notes  of  tinkling 


II  ill 


382 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


cithera  and  the  low-breathing  double  flutes*  in  softest  Lydian 
mood.  In  and  out  of  the  cabin  passed  bronzed-faced  Ethiop- 
ian mutes  with  silver  cups  of  the  precious  Marcotic  white  wine 
of  Egypt  for  the  lady,  and  plates  of  African  pomegranates, 
Armenian  apricots,  and  strange  sweetmeats  flavoured  with  a 
marvellous  powder,  an  Oriental  product  worth  its  weight  in  gold 
as  a  medicine,  which  later  generations  were  to  designate  under 
the  name  of  sugar. 

And  so  Cornelia  was  refreshed  and  dressed;  and  when  the 
maids  held  the  mirror  before  her  and  she  baw  that  the  gold 
trinkets  were  shining  in  her  hair,  and  the  jewels  which  Deme- 
trius had  sent  her  were  sparkling  brightly  at  her  throat,  and 
realized  that  she  was  very  fair  to  see,  —  then  she  laughed, 
the  first  real,  unforced  laugh  for  many  a  weary  day,  where- 
upon she  laughed  again  and  again,  and  grew  the  more  pleased 
with  her  own  face  when  she  beheld  a  smile  upon  it.  Then 
Fabia  kissed  her,  and  told  her  that  no  woman  was  ever  more 
beautiful ;  and  the  dark  Indian  maids  drew  back,  saying  nothing, 
but  admiring  with  their  eyes.  So  Cornelia  went  up  upon  the 
deck,  where  Demetrius  came  to  meet  her.  If  she  had  been  a 
Semiramis  rewarding  a  deserving  general,  she  could  not  have 
been  more  queenly.  For  she  thanked  him  and  his  lieuten- 
ants with  a  warm  gratitude  which  made  every  rough  seaman 
feel  himself  more  than  repaid,  and  yet  throughout  it  all  bore 
herself  as  though  the  mere  privilege  on  their  part  of  rescuing 
her  ought  to  be  sufficient  reward  and  honour.  Then  Demetrius 
knelt  down  before  all  his  men,  and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  robe, 
and  swore  that  he  would  devote  himself  and  all  that  was  his 
to  her  service,  until  she  and  Quintus  Drusus  should  meet,  with 
no  foe  to  come  between;  so  swore  all  the  pirates  after  their 
captain,  and  thus  it  was  Cornelia  entered  into  her  life  on  the 
ship  of  the  freebooters. 

1  Tibim. 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS 


383 


Other  work,  however,  was  before  Demetrius  that  day,  than 
casting  glances  of  dutiful  admiration  at  the  stately  lady  that 
had  deigned  to  accept  his  hospitality.  Out  from  the  various 
other  cabins,  less  luxurious  assuredly  than  the  one  in  which 
Cornelia  had  awakened,  the  pirates  led  their  several  captives 
to  stand  before  the  chief.  Demetrius,  indeed,  had  accomplished 
what  he  euphemistically  described  as  "a  fair  night's  work." 
Half  a  dozen  once  very  fashionable  and  now  very  disordered 
and  dejected  noble  ladies  and  about  as  many  more  sadly 
bedraggled  fine  gentlemen  were  haled  before  his  tribunal  fov 
judgment.  The  pirate  prince  stood  on  the  raised  roof  of  a 
cabin,  a  step  higher  than  the  rest  of  the  poop.  He  was  again 
in  his  splendid  armour,  his  naked  sword  was  in  his  hand,  at 
his  side  was  stationed  Eurybiades  and  half  a  score  more  stal- 
wart seamen,  all  swinging  their  bare  cutlasses.  Demetrius 
nevertheless  conducted  his  interrogations  with  perhaps  super- 
fluous demonstrations  of  courtesy,  and  a  general  distribution 
of  polite  "domini"  "dominae,"  "  clarissimi,"  and  "illustres." 
He  spoke  in  perfectly  good  Latin,  with  only  the  slightest  for- 
eign accent ;  and  Cornelia,  who  —  unregenerate  pagan  that  she 
was  —  was  taking  thorough  delight  in  the  dilemma  of  persons 
whom  she  knew  had  made  her  the  butt  of  their  scandalous 
gibes,  could  only,  admire  the  skilful  manner  in  which  he 
brought  home  to  the  several  captives  the  necessity  of  finding 
a  very  large  sum  of  money  at  their  bankers'  in  a  very  short 
time,  or  enduring  an  indefinite  captivity.  After  more  or  less 
of  surly  threats  and  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  men,  and 
screaming  on  the  part  of  the  women,  the  prisoners  one  and  all 
capitulated,  and  put  their  names  to  the  papyri  they  were  com- 
manded to  sign;  and  away  went  a  boat  dancing  over  the  waves 
to  Puteoli  to  cash  the  money  orders,  after  which  the  captives 
would  be  set  ashore  at  Baiae. 


384 


A   FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


Last  of  the  wretches  brought  before  Demetrius  came  Phaon. 
The  freedman  had  been  roughly  handled ;  across  his  brow  a 
great  welt  had  risen  where  a  pirate  had  struck  him  with  a  rope's 
end.  His  arms  were  pinioned  behind  his  back.  He  was  per- 
fectly pale,  and  his  eyes  wandered  from  one  person  to  another 
as  if  vainly  seeking  some  intercessor. 

"Euge!  Kyrios!^"  cried  the  pirate  chief,  "you  indeed  seem 
to  enjoy  our  hospitality  but  ill." 

Phaon  fell  on  his  knp(  s. 

"I  am  a  poor  man,'*  he  began  to  whimper.  " I  have  no 
means  of  paying  a  ransom.  My  patron  is  not  here  to  pro- 
tect or  rescue  me.  I  have  nothing  to  plunder.  Mu!  mu! 
set  me  free,  most  noble  pirate!  Oh!  most  excellent  prince, 
what  have  I  done,  that  you  should  bear  a  grudge  against 
me?" 

"  Get  up,  fellow,"  snapped  Demetrius ;  « I'm  not  one  of  those 
crocodile-headed  Egyptian  gods  that  they  grovel  b  fore  in  the 
Nile  country.  My  cousin  Agias  here  says  he  knows  you.  Now 
answer  —  are  you  a  Greek  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  Athenian  born." 

"Don't  you  think  I  can  smell  your  Doric  accent  by  that 
broad  alpha  ?    You  are  a  Sicilian,  I'll  be  bound ! " 

Phaon  made  a  motion  of  sorrowful  assent. 

"Phui!"  continued  Demetrius,  "tell  me,  Agias,  is  this  the 
creature  that  tried  to  murder  Quintus  Drusus  ?  " 

i.gias  nodded. 

"  A  fit  minister  for  such  a  man  as  I  imagine  the  son  of  Lucius 
Domitius  to  be.  Eurybiades,  take  off  that  fellow's  bands ;  he 
is  not  worth  one  stroke  of  the  sword." 

"  The  captain  will  not  spare  the  knave ! "  remonstrated  the 
sanguinary  lieutenant. 

^Your  Highneu. 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  DEMETRIUS 


385 


"  What  I  have  said,  I  have  said,"  retorted  the  other ;  then, 
when  Phaon's  arms  hung  free,  "  See,  on  the  strength  of  our 
fellowship  in  our  both  being  Greeks,  I  have  set  you  at  large  ! " 

Phaon  again  sank  to  his  knees  to  proffer  thanks. 

"Hold!"  cried  Demetrius,  with  a  menacing  gesture.  "Don't 
waste  your  gratitude.  Greek  you  pretend  to  be,  more  the 
shame!  Such  as  you  it  is  that  have  brought  Hellas  under 
the  heel  of  the  oppressor;  such  as  you  have  made  the  word 
of  a  Hellene  almost  valueless  in  the  P,oman  courts,  so  that 
juries  have  to  be  warned  to  consider  us  ail  liars  ;  such  as  you 
have  J  ragged  down  into  the  pit  many  an  honest  man;  ay, 
myself  too!" 

Phaon  left  off  his  thanks  and  began  again  to  supplicate. 

"  Stop  whining,  hound !  "  roared  Demetrius ;  "  haven't  I  said 
you  are  free  ?     Free,  but  on  one  condition ! " 

"Anything,  anything,  my  lord,"  professed  the  freedman, 
"  money,  service  —  " 

"  On  this  condition,"  and  a  broad,  wicked  smile  over- 
spread the  face  of  the  pirate,  "that  you  quit  this  ship 
instantly ! " 

"Gladly,  gladly,  merciful  sir!"  commenced  ]'i..on  again; 
"  where  is  the  boat  ?  " 

"WicUh!"  shouted  the  other,  "what  did  I  say  about  a 
boat?  Depart — -depart  into  the  sea!  Swim  ashore,  if  the 
load  on  your  legs  be  not  too  heavy.  Seize  him  and  see  that  he 
sinks,"  —  this  last  to  Eurybiades  and  the  seamen. 

Phr.ou's  terror  choked  his  utterance ;  he  turned  livid  with 
mortal  fright.  He  pleaded  for  life;  life  on  the  terms  most 
degrading,  most  painful,  most  joyless  —  life,  life  and  that  only. 
He  cried  out  to  Cornelia  to  save  him,  he  confessed  his  villanies, 
and  vowed  repentance  a  score  of  times  all  in  one  breath.  But 
Cornelia  lived  in  an  age  when  the  wisest  and  best  —  whatever 
2o 


t. 
H 


.li 


386 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


.,1- 
1  .[J 


the  philosophers  might  theorize— thought  it  no  shame  to 
reward  evil  for  evil,  not  less  than  good  for  good.  When  Deme- 
trius asked  her,  "  Shall  I  spare  this  man,  lady  ?  "  she  replied : 
"As  he  has  made  my  life  bitter  for  many  days,  why  should  I 
spare  him  a  brief  moment's  pain  ?    Death  ends  all  woe  ! " 

There  was  a  dull  splash  over  the  side,  a  circle  spreading 
out  in  the  water,  wider  and  wider,  until  it  could  be  seen  no 
more  among  the  waves. 

"There  were  heavy  stones  to  his  feet,  Captain,"  reported 
Eurybiades,  "  and  the  cords  will  hold." 
"It  is  well,"  answered.  Demetrius,  very  grave.  .  .  . 
Later  in  the  day  the  boat  returned  from  Puteoli,  and  with  -t 
sundry  small  round-bellied  bags,  which  the  pirate  prince  duJy 
stowed  away  in  his  strong  chest.  The  ransomed  captives  were 
put  on  board  a  small  unarmed  yacht  that  had  come  out  to 
receive  them.  Demetrius  himself  handed  the  ladies  over  the 
side,  and  salaamed  to  them  as  the  craft  shot  off  from  the  flag- 
ship. Then  the  pirates  again  weighed  anchor,  the  great 
purple  •  squa.3  sail  of  each  of  the  ships  was  cast  to  the  piping 
breeze,  the  triple  tiers  of  silver-plated  oars '  began  to  rise  and 
fall  in  unison  to  the  soft  notes  of  the  piper.  The  land  grew 
fainter  and  more  faint,  and  the  three  ships  sprang  away, 
speeding  over  the  broad  breast  of  the  sea. 

That  night  Cornelia  and  Fabia  held  each  other  in  their 
arms  for  a  long  time.  They  were  leaving  Rome,  leaving  Italy, 
their  closest  friend  at  hand  was  only  the  quondam  slave-boy 
Agias,  yet  Cornelia,  at  least,  was  happy  —  almost  as  happy  as 
the  girl  Artemisia ;  and  when  she  lay  down  to  sleep,  it  was  to 
enjoy  the  first  sound  slumber,  unhaunted  by  dread  of  trouble, 
for  nigh  unto  half  a  year. 

1  These  were  real  affectations  of  the  Cilician  pirates. 


CHAPTER  XX 


CLEOPATRA 


A  ••  CLEAR  singing  zephyr "  out  of  the  west  sped  the  ships 
on  their  way.  Down  they  fared  along  the  coast,  past  the  isle 
of  Capreae,  then,  leaving  the  Campanian  main  behind,  cut  the 
blue  billows  of  the  Tyrrhenian  Sea ;  all  that  day  and  night,  and 
more  sail  and  oar  swept  the-n  on.  They  flew  past  the  beaches 
of  Magna  Graecia,  then,  betwixt  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and 
Sicilia  and  its  smoke-beclouded  cone  of  ^tna  fr.ded  out  of 
view,  and  the  long,  dark  swells  of  the  Ionian  Sea  caught  them. 
No  feeble  merchantman,  hugging  coasts  and  headlands,  was 
Demetrius.  He  pushed  his  three  barqueo  boldly  forward 
toward  the  watery  sky-line ;  the  rising  and  setting  sun  by  day 
and  the  slowly  circling  stars  by  night  vere  all-sufficient  pilots; 
and  so  the  ships  flew  onward,  and,  In'  ■  hough  the  season  was, 
no  tempest  racked  them,  no  swollei,         tw  tossed  them. 

Cornelia  sat  for  hours  on  the  poop,  ueneath  a  crimson  awn- 
ing, watching  the  foam  scudding  out  from  under  the  swl>- 
moving  keel,  and  feeling  the  soft,  balmy  Notos,  the  kind  wind 
of  the  south,  now  and  then  puff  against  her  face,  when  the 
west  wind  veered  away,  and  so  brought  up  a  whiff  of  the  spices 
and  tropic  bloom  of  the  great  southern  continent,  over  the 
parching  deserts  and  the  treacherous  quicksands  of  the  Syrtes 
and  the  broad  "unharvested  sea." 

387 


388 


A  FEIEND  OF  CiESAR 


'2' 
I 


m 


III 


Cornelia  had  seen  the  cone  of  jEtna  sinking  away  in  the 
west,  and  then  she  looked  westward  no  more.  For  eastward 
and  ever  eastward  fared  the  ships,  and  on  beyond  them  on 
pinions  of  mind  flew  Cornelia.  To  Africa,  .o  the  Orient! 
And  she  dreamed  of  the  half -fabulous  kingdoms  of  Assyria 
and  Babylonia;  of  the  splendours  of  Men^phis  and  Nine- 
veh and  Susa  and  Ecbatana;  of  Eastern  kings  and  Eastern 
gold,  and  "Sastern  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war;  of  Ninus, 
and  Cyrus  the  Great,  and  Alexander;  of  Cheops  and  Sesostris 
and  Amasis ;  of  the  hanging  gardens ;  of  the  treasures  of  Sar- 
danapalus;  of  the  labyrinth  of  Lake  Moeris;  of  a  thousand 
and  one  things  rare  and  wonderful.  Half  was  she  persuaded 
that  in  the  East  the  heart  might  not  ache  nor  the  soul  grow 
cold  with  pain.  And  all  life  was  fair  to  Cornelia.  She  was 
sure  of  meeting  Drusus  soon  or  late  now,  if  so  be  the  gods  — 
she  could  not  help  using  the  expression  despite  her  atheisr^c  — 
spared  him  in  war.  She  could  wait;  she  could  be  very  patient. 
She  was  still  very  young.  And  when  she  counted  her  remain- 
ing years  to  threescore,  they  seemed  an  eternity.  The  pall 
whifih  had  rested  on  her  life  since  her  uncle  and  her  lover 
parted  after  their  stormy  interview  was  lifted;  she  could 
smile,  could  laugh,  could  breathe  in  the  fresh  air,  and  cry, 
"  Kovf  good  it  all  is !  " 

Demetrius  held  his  men  under  control  with  an  iron  hand. 
If  ever  the  pirate  ship  was  filled  with  sights  and  sounds 
unseemly  for  a  lady's  eyes  and  ears,  there  were  none  of  them 
now.  Cornelia  was  a  princess,  abjectly  waited  on  by  her  sub- 
jects. Demetrius's  attention  outran  all  her  least  desires. 
He  wearied  her  with  presents  of  jewellery  and  costly  dresses, 
though,  as  he  quietly  remarked  to  Agias,  the  gifts  meant  no 
more  of  sacrifice  to  him  than  an  obol  to  a  rich  spendthiift.  He 
filled  her  ears  with  music  all  day  long;  he  entertained  her  with 


CLEOPATRA 


38d 


inimitable  narrations  of  his  own  adventurous  v  'ages  and 
battles.  And  only  dimly  could  Cornelia  realize  that  the  gems 
she  wore  in  her  hair,  her  silken  dress,  nay,  almost  everything 
she  touched,  had  come  from  earlier  owners  with  scant  process 
of  law. 

Demetrius  was  no  common  rover.  He  had  been  a  young 
man  of  rare  culture  before  misfortune  struck  him.  He  knew 
his  Homer  and  his  Plato  as  well  as  how  to  swing  a  sword. 
"Yet,"  as  he  remarked  with  half  jest,  half  sigh,  "all  his  phi- 
losophy did  not  make  him  one  whit  more  an  honest  man." 

And  in  his  crew  of  Greeks,  Orientals,  and  Spaniards  were 
many  more  whom  calamity,  not  innate  wickedness,  so  Cor- 
nelia discovered,  had  driven  to  a  life  of  violence  and  rapine. 

Demetrius,  too,  gave  no  little  heed  to  Artemisia.  That 
pretty  creature  had  been  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  Agias's 
presence  ever  since  coming  on  shipboard.  It  was  tacitly 
understood  that  Cornelia  would  care  for  the  welfare  and  edu- 
cation of  Pratinas's  runaway,  until  she  reached  a  maturity  at 
which  Agias  could  assert  his  claims.  The  young  Hellene 
himself  had  been  not  a  little  anxious  lest  his  cousin  cast, 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  an  alliance  with  a  masterless  slave- 
girl;  for  of  late  Demetrius  had  been  boasting  to  his  kinsman 
that  their  family,  before  business  misfortunes,  had  been 
wealthy  and  honourable  among  the  merchant  princes  of  Alex- 
andria. But  the  worthy  pirate  had  not  an  objection  to  make ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  would  sit  for  hours  staring  at  Artemisia, 
and  when  Agias  demanded  if  he  was  about  to  turn  rival, 
shook  his  head  and  replied,  rather  brusquely:  — 

"  I  was  only  thinking  that  Daphne  might  be  about  her  age, 
and  look  perhaps  like  her." 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  your  li^^^tle  daughter  is  dead?  "  asked 
Agias,  sympathetic,  yet  personally  relieved. 


ill 


i 

i, 

i  j 

!  ill 


'^  ■'*>■■ 


390 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


"I  know  nothing,  nothing,"  replied  his  cousin,  a  look  of 
ineffable  pain  passing  over  his  fine  features;  "she  was  a 
mere  infant  when  I  was  arrested.  When  I  broke  loose,  I 
had  to  flee  for  my  life.  When  I  could  set  searchers  after  her, 
she  had  vanished.  Poor  motherless  thing;  I  imagine  she  is 
the  slave  of  some  gay  lady  at  Antioch  or  Ephesus  or  Rome 
now." 

"And  you  do  not  know  who  stole  her?  "  asked  Agias. 

"Don't  tear  open  old  wounds,"  was  the  retort.  "I  know 
nothing.  I  think  —  but  it  matters  little  what  I  think.  There 
was  that  sly-eyed,  smooth-tor gued  Greek,  like  that  Phaon  who 
met  his  deserts,  who  was  no  stranger  to  Domitius's  blackmail- 
ings.  I  feel  that  he  did  it.  Never  mind  his  name.  If  ever 
I  get  the  snake  into  my  power  —  "  and  Demetrius's  fingers 
tightened  around  the  thick,  hard  cable  he  was  clutching,  and 
crushed  the  solid  hemp  into  soft,  loose  strands;  then  he  broke 
out  again,  "Never  mention  this  another  time,  Agias,  or  I  shall 
go  mad,  and  plunge  down,  down  into  the  waves,  to  go  to  sleep 
and  forget  it  all ! " 

Agias  was  faithful  to  the  injunction;  but  he  observed  that 
Demetrius  showed  Artemisia  the  same  attention  as  Cornelia, 
albeit  mingled  with  a  little  gracious  and  unoffending  famil- 
iarity. 

n 

After  a  voyage  in  which  one  pleasant  day  succeeded  another, 
Cornelia  awoke  one  morning  to  hear  the  creak  of  blocks  and 
tackle  as  the  sailors  were  lowering  sail.  The  full  banks  of 
oars  were  plashing  in  the  waves,  and  on  deck  many  feet  were 
rushing  to  and  fro,  while  officers  shouted  their  orders.  Com- 
ing out  of  her  cabin,  the  young  lady  saw  that  the  end  of  her 
seafaring  was  close  at  hand.     Even  to  one  fresh  from  the 


CLEOPATRA 


391 


azure  atmosphere  of  the  Campanian  Bay,  the  sky  was  marvel- 
lously clear.     The  water  was  of  a  soft  green  tint,  that  shaded 
off  here  and  there  into  dark  cerulean.     The  wind  was  blowing 
in  cool  puffs  out  of  the  north.     A  long,  slow  swell  made  the 
stately  triremes  rock  gracefully.     Before  them,  in  clear  view, 
rose  the  tall  tower  of  the  Pharos,  —the  lighthouse  of  Alexan- 
dria,—and  beyond  it,  on  the  low-lying  mainland,  rose  in 
splendid  relief  against  the  cloudless  sky  the  glittering  piles 
and  fanes  of  the  city  of  the  Ptolemies.     It  was  a  magnificent 
picture,  —  a  "  picture  "  because  the  colours  everywhere  were  as 
bright  as  though  laid  on  freshly  by  a  painter's  brush.     The 
stonework  of  the  buildings,  painted  to  gaudy  hues,  brought  out 
all  the  details  of  column,  cornice,  and  pediment.     Here  Deme- 
trius pointed  out  the  Royal  Palace,  here  the  Theatre;  here, 
farther  inland,  the  Museum,  where  was  the  great  University; 
in  the  distance  the  whole  looked  like  a  painting  in  miniature. 
Only  there  was  more  movement  in  this  picture:  a  splendid 
yacht,  with  the  gold  and  ivory  glittering  on  its  prow  and  poop, 
was  shooting  out  from  the  royal  dockyards  in  front  of  the 
palace;  a  ponderous  corn-ship  was  spreading  her  dirty  sails  to 
try  to  bea'o  out  against  the  adverse  breeze,  and  venture  on  a 
voyage  to  Rome,  at  a  season  when  the  Italian  traffic  was  usu- 
ally suspended.     The  harbour  and  quays  were  one  forest  ot 
masts.      Boats    and   small   craft  were  gliding  everywhere. 
Behind  the  pirate's  triremes  several  large  merchantmen  were 
bearing  into  the  harbour  under  a  full  press  of  sail. 

"And  this,  your  ladyship,"  said  Demetrius,  smiling,  "is 
Egypt.     Does  the  first  sight  please  you?" 

"Does  it  not!  "  exclaimed  Cornelia,  drinking  in  the  match- 
less spectacle.  "But  you,  kind  sir,  do  you  not  run  personal 
peril  by  putting  into  this  haven  for  my  sake?" 

Demetrius  laughed. 


V  ■■ 


392 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESA:i 


**  It  speaks  ill  for  the  law-abiding  qualities  of  my  country, 
men,  lady,"  said  he,  "that  I  have  nothing  now  to  fear.  I  have 
too  many  great  friends  both  in  the  court  and  in  the  city  to 
fear  arrest  or  annoyance.  Here  I  may  not  stay  long,  for  if  it 
were  to  be  noised  in  Borne  that  a  pirate  were  harboured 
habitually  at  Alexandria,  a  demand  for  my  arrest  would  come 
to  the  king  quickly  enough,  and  he  must  needs  comply.  But 
for  a  few  days,  especially  while  all  Borne  is  in  chaos,  I  am 
safe;  and,  come  what  may,  I  would  be  first  warned  if  any  one 
intended  to  lay  hands  on  me." 

Indeed,  Demetrius's  boast  as  to  his  own  importance  in 
Alexandria  was  soon  verified.  The  customs  officials  were  all 
obsequiousness  when  they  went  through  the  form  of  levying 
on  the  cargo  of  the  ship.  The  master  of  the  port  was  soon  in 
Demetrius's  own  cabin  over  a  crater  of  excellent  wine,  and  no 
sooner  had  the  vessels  touched  the  quay  than  their  crews  were 
fraternizing  with  the  hosts  of  stevedores  and  flower-girls  who 
"warmed  to  meet  the  new  arrivals. 


A  few  days  later  Cornelia  and  Fabia  found  themselves 
received  as  members  of  the  household  of  no  less  a  person  than 
Cleomenes,  a  distant  kinsman  of  Demetrius  and  Agias,  and 
himself  one  of  the  great  merchant  princes  of  the  Egyptian  capi- 
tal. The  Boman  ladies  found  a  certain  amount  of  shyness  to 
overcome  on  their  own  part  and  on  that  of  their  hosts.  Cleom- 
enes himself  was  a  widower,  and  his  ample  house  was  presided 
over  by  two  dark-skinned,  dark-eyed  daughters,  Berenice  and 
Monime  —  girls  who  blended  with  the  handsome  Greek  features 
of  their  father  the  soft,  sensuous  charm  of  his  dead  Egyptian 
wife.  Bashful  indeed  had  been  these  maidens  in  contact  with 
the  strangers  who  came  bearing  with  them  the  haughty  pride 
of  all-cruquering  Borne.      But  after  a  day  or  two,   when 


CLEOPATRA 


393 


Cornelia  had  cast  off  the  hauteur  begotten  of  diffidence,  and 
Fabia  had  opened  the  depths  of  her  pure  womanly  character, 
the  barriers  were  thrown  down  rapidly  enough;  and  Cornelia 
and  Fabia  gained,  not  merely  an  access  to  a  new  woild  of  life 
and  ideas,  but  two  friends  that  they  could  regard  almost  as 
sisters. 

It  was  a  '  ^  thing  for  these  Roman  ladies  to  meet  a  for- 
eigner on  term,  approaching  equality.  A  non-Roman  had  been 
for  them  a  servant,  an  intelligent  underling,  nothing  more; 
even  Agias  and  Demetrius  thoy  had  regarded  as  friends,  very 
close  and  ajreeable,  but  whom  it  Avas  a  distinct  condescen- 
sion not  to  treat  with  ostentatious  superiority.  But  to  sustain 
this  feeling  long  with  Berenice  and  Monime  was  impossible. 
The  young  Egyptians  were  every  whit  as  cultured,  as  intelli- 
gent, as  themselves,  every  whit  as  accustomed  to  deference 
from  others,  and  implicitly  assumed  the  right  to  demand  it. 
The  result  was  that  Cornelia  found  herself  thinking  less  and 
less  about  being  a  Roman,  and  more  and  more  regarded  her 
gracious  hosts  as  persons  in  every  way  equal  to  herself. 

And  less  and  less  of  a  Roman,  Cornelia,  the  Hellene-hater, 
became.  Greek  was  the  only  tongue  now  that  sounded  in  her 
ear,  unless  she  talked  privately  with  Fabia  or  was  beguiled 
into  trying  to  learn  a  little  Egyptian  — a  language  Berenice 
and  Monime'^spoke  fluently.  The  clothes  she  wore  were  no 
longer  stola  and  palla,  but  chiton  and  himation.  Tlie  whole 
atmi  sphere  about  her  was  foreign,  down  to  the  cries  on  the 
streecs.  And  Italy  was  very  far  away,  and  the  last  memories 
thereof  none  the  most  pleasant. 

It  chanced  that  one  morning  Cleomenes,  Monime,  and  Cor- 
nelia were  driving  down  the  great  central  street,  under  the 
shadow  of  seemingly  endless  colonnades. 

"A!   dearest  one,"  cried  Monime,  "why  must  you  think 


m 


m 


394 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


i    : 

ii 

! ; 


I: 


of  leaving  our  lovely  Alexandria,  of  going  back  to  cold,  cheer> 
less  Borne?  What  good  thing  does  Borne  send  out  but  stem 
men  and  sharp  iron?  " 

Cornelia  shook  her  head  and  made  answer  — 

"You  Alexandrians  are  not  one  nation,  but  all  the  world; 
therefore  you  think  all  who  are  less  cosmopolitan  poor.  See, 
I  count  in  the  crowds  not  only  the  dark  Egyptians  and  fair 
Greeks,  but  a  Persian  in  his  splendid  long  kaftan,  and  a  very 
venerable  Jew,  and  a  wiry  little  Arab,  and  Syrians,  and  negroes, 
and,  I  think,  a  Hindoo." 

"And  yourself,  my  lady,  a  Boraan,"  concluded  Cleomenes. 
"Truly  all  the  earth  has  met  in  our  city." 

They  whirled  down  the  splendid  highway  that  ran  straight 
as  an  d,rrow  ^>"i  whole  length  of  the  city,  lined  on  either  side 
by  a  forest  ol  the  infinite  number  of  columns  of  the  great 
stretches  of  porticos.  Handsomely  dressed  cavalrymen  of  the 
palace  guard  were  dashing  to  and  fro  over  the  clean,  hard  pave- 
ment; elegant  carriages  containing  the  noble  and  .•  jalthy  were 
whirling  in  every  direction.  At  each  glance,  the  eye  lit  on 
some  pleasing  bit  of  sculpture,  some  delicate  curve  of  archi- 
tecture. Statues  were  everywhere,  everywhere  colour,  every- 
where crowds  of  gayly  dressed  citizens  and  foreigners.  Corne- 
lia contrasted  the  symmetrical  streets,  all  broad,  swept,  and  at 
right  angles  —  the  triumph  of  the  wise  architectural  planniL" 
of  Dinocrates  —  with  the  dirty,  unsightly,  and  crooked  lanes  of 
the  City  of  the  Seven  Hills,  and  told  herself,  as  she  had  told 
herself  often  in  recent  days,  that  Eomans  had  much  yet  to  learn. 

They  drove  on  past  the  Amphitheatre  toAvard  the  Egyptian 
quarter  of  the  Rhacotis ;  and  liere,  at  the  intersection  of  the 
Great  Street  with  the  other  broad  way  leading  from  the  "  Gate 
of  the  Moon  "  on  the  harbour  to  the  "  Gate  of  the  Sun  "  on  Lake 
Mareotis,  a  moving  hedge  of  outriders,  cavalrymen,  and  foot- 
guards  met  them. 


CLEOPATRA 


395 


"The  queen  coming  trovi  the  Serapeum,"  said  Cleomenes, 
drawing  rein. 

Cornelia  saw  half-naked  Numidian  footmen  thrusting  back 
the  crowd  that  bustled  in  the  Omphalos— the  great  square 
where  the  two  highroads  met.     Behind  them  pushed  a  squad- 
ron of  light  cavalry  in  silvered  armour  and  splendid  purple 
and  scarlet  uniforms.     Then,  in  the  midst  of  all,  moved  a 
chariot  drawn  by  four  hors'»s  white  as  snow,  the  harness 
resplendent  with  gold  and      ^eb;  at  either  side  ran  fan- 
bearers,  waving  great  masses  ot  bright  ostrich  plumes;  a  gaudy 
parasol  swept  over  the  carriage  itself.    There  were  three  occu- 
pants, whereof  two  stood:  an  Egyptian,  gaunt  and  of  great 
height,  clad  in  plain  white  linen,  who  was  driving,  and  a  hand- 
some,  gaudily  dressed  Greek  youth,  who  was  holding  the  para- 
sol.    Cornelia  could  just  catch  the  profile  of  a  young  woman 
seated  between  them.     The  face  was  not  quite  regular,  but 
marvellously  intelligent  and  sensitive;  the  skin  not  pale,  yet 
far  from  dark,  and  perfectly  healthy  and  clear;  the  eyes  restive 
and  piercing.    The  queen  was  diessed  plainly  in  Greek  fashion ; 
her  himation  was  white,  her  only  ornament  a  great  diamond 
that  was  blazing  like  a  star  on  her  breast.     Upon  the  coils  of 
her  heavy,  dark  hair ,  at  a  golden  circlet  faced  in  front  with  the 
likeness  of  the  head  of  the  venomous  uraeus  snake  —  the  em- 
blem of  Egyptian  royalty.    This  was  all  Cornelia  could  observe 
in  the  brief  time  the  queen  was  in  view.     Some  of  the  people 
—  Egyptians  mostly  —  cried  out  to  her  in  their  own  tongue :  — 
"  Hail  to  the  ever  glorious  Daughter  of  Ra ! " 
But  the  queen  paid  them  little  heed.     Once  1  v.r  restless  eyes 
lit  on  the  carriage  of  Cleomenes,  and  she  made  a  slight  inclina- 
tion of  the  head  in  return  to  that  gentleman's  salute,  for  Cleom- 
enes had  standing  at  court  as  one  of  the  "  friends  of  the  king." ' 
1  A  high  order  of  Egyptian  nobility. 


1-5 


mni 


396 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


!• 


The  cortege  rolled  away  toward  the  palace. 

"This  Cleopatra  is  a  either  remarkable  woman,"  observed 
Cornelia,  for  the  sake  of  saying  something. 

"Indeed,  that  is  true,"  replied  Cleomenes,  as  he  turned  to 
drive  homeward.  "  She  is  worthy  to  have  lived  in  the  days  of 
the  first  Ptolemies,  of  Ptolemaeus  Soter  and  Philadelphus  and 
Euergetes.  She  is  still  very  young,  only  twenty,  and  yet  five 
years  ago  she  was  so  fascinating  that  when  Antonius,  of  whom 
I  have  heard  you  speak,  came  here  with  Gabinius's  expedition, 
he  quite  lost  his  heart  to  her.  She  has  a  marvellous  talent  for 
statecraft  and  intrigue  and  diplomacy.  You  know  that,  nomi- 
nally at  least,  she  has  to  share  her  crown  with  young  Ptole- 
maeus, her  younger  brother.  He  is  a  worthless  rascal,  but 
his  tutor,  the  eunuch  Pothinus,  really  wields  him.  Pothinus, 
iS  the  custom  is,  was  brc  ight  up  with  him  as  his  playmate,  and 
now  Pothinus  wants  to  drive  out  the  queen,  and  rule  Egypt 
through  his  power  over  the  king.  His  ambition  is  notori- 
ous, but  the  queen  has  not  been  able  to  lay  hands  on  him  for 
treason." 

Cleopatra  and  her  fortunes  and  perils  played  a  slight  part  in 
Cornelia's  mind,  however,  that  day.  To  know  Alexandria  in 
its  sunlight  and  shadows  was  indeed  to  know  a  miniature  world. 
First  of  all  to  notice,  besides  the  heterogeneous  nature  of  the 
crowds  on  the  streets,  was  the  fact  that  every  person,  high  as 
well  as  low,  was  engaged  in  some  trade.  Very  far  was  the 
typical  Alexandrian  from  the  quiet "  leisure  "  which  the  average 
Greek  or  Latin  believed  requisite  for  a  refined  life  —  a  life  in 
which  slaves  did  all  the  necessary  work,  and  amassed  an  income 
for  the  master  to  expend  in  polite  recreations.  In  Rome,  for 
a  free  citizen  to  have  been  a  handicraftsman  would  have  beet 
a  disgrace ;  he  could  be  farmer,  banker,  soldier,  —  nothing  more. 
In  Alexandria  the  glass-workers,   paper-makers,  and  linen 


CLEOPATRA 


397 


weavers  were  those  who  were  proudest  and  most  jealous  of 
their  title  of  "Men  f  ''  >facedonia."*  Money,  Cornelia  soon 
discovered,  was  e  i.n  a  grearer  ^id  here  than  in  Rome.  Cle- 
oraenes  himself  '  ;iii  not  asharnid  to  spend  a  large  part  of  the 
day  inspecting  hi,-  f.H<-ov:es,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  declare 
that  during  a  period  when  he  and  his  family  had  been  in  great 
distress,  following  the  failure  of  the  banking  house  of  Agias's 
father,  he  had  toiled  with  his  own  hands  to  win  bread  for  his 
daughters. 

The  conception  that  any  honest  labour,  except  a  certain 
genteel  agriculture,  might  not  make  a  man  the  less  of  a  gen- 
tleman, or  a  woman  the  less  of  a  lady,  was  as  new  to  Cornelia 
as  the  idea  that  some  non-Romans  could  claim  equality  with 
herself.  Neither  proposition  did  she  accept  consciously.  The 
prejudice  wore  quietly  away.  But  other  things  about  the  city 
slie  gathered  quickly  enough  from  the  caustic  explanations  of 
Cleomenes. 

"Here  in  Alexandria,"  he  asserted  on  one  occasion,  "we  are 
always  ripe  for  a  riot.  Never  a  chariot  race  without  stone- 
throwing  and  throat-cutting  after  it.  An  unpopular  official  is 
torn  in  pieces  by  a  mob.  If  you  chance  to  kill  a  cat,  the 
Egyptians  are  after  you  for  your  life.  The  Greeks  hate  the 
Jews,  and  are  always  ready  to  plunder  their  quarter;  the  Egyp- 
tians are  on  bad  terms  with  both.  We  talk  about  being  free 
citizens  of  the  capital  of  the  Ptolemies,  and  pretend  to  go  to 
the  Gymnasium  for  discussion,  and  claim  a  right  to  consult 
with  the  king;  but  our  precious  Senate,  and  all  our  tribes  and 
wards,  are  only  fictions.  We  are  as  m^oh  slaves  as  the  poor 
creatures  down  in  the  royal  quarries;  only  we  demand  the  right 
to  riot  and  give  nicknames.  We  called  the  last  Ptolemaeus, 
Auletes  "the  Piper,"  because  in  that  way  we  have  punished 

1  The  official  titio  of  AlHzatulriau  Greek  citizens. 


398 


A  FRIEND  OF  CJCSAR 


h 


I  \' 


m 


him  in  all  history  for  the  way  he  oppressed  us.  Eiige  !  Have 
we  not  a  wonderful  city!  " 

It  was  on  the  very  next  day  that  Cleopatra  was  recalled  to 
Cornelia's  mind  in  a  quite  marked  fashion.  It  was  rather 
early,  and  she  was  upon  the  roof -garden,  on  the  third  story  of 
the  house,  where  there  was  a  commanding  view  of  the  city. 
Berenice  was  busy  reading  from  a  papyrus  the  Egyptian  legend 
of  the  "Adventures  of  Sinuhit,"  translating  into  Greek  as  she 
read. 

Cleomenes  broke  in  upon  the  reading.  His  face  wore  a 
mysterious  smile. 

"I  have  a  rather  strange  piece  of  news  for  you,  my  lady," 
he  said.  "  A  chamberlain  of  tae  court  has  just  been  here,  and 
brings  a  royal  command." 

"I  am  not  accustomed  to  being  commanded,"  interrupted 
Cornelia,  all  her  Roman  haughtiness  rising. 

*'  I  do  not  think  you  will  be  found  disobedient.  The  queen, 
it  seems,  noticed  you  in  my  carriage  yesterday,  and  at  once 
divined,  with  that  wonderfully  quick  wit  of  hers,  that  you  must 
be  a  Roman  lady  of  rank.  She  immediately  made  inquiries, 
and  now  sends  her  chamberlain  to  ask  you  and  the  Lady  Fabia, 
as  well  as  myself,  to  dine  with  her  at  the  palace  to-night.  You 
may  be  sure  nothing  will  be  lacking  to  do  you  honour." 

Cornelia  meekly  acquiesced  in  this  royal  mandate.  Fabia, 
however,  could  not  stir  from  the  house.  The  'shock  to  her 
finely  strung  nature  when  she  was  taken  from  Rome  had, 
indeed,  produced  a  physical  reaction.  She  was  not  seriously 
ill,  but  could  endure  no  excitement.  So  it  was  with  only 
Cleomenes  for  an  escort  that  Cornelia  mounted  into  one  of  the 
splendid  royal  chariots  sent  from  the  palace  about  dusk,  aud 
drove  away  surrounded  by  a  cloud  of  guardsmen  sent  to  do 
honour  to  the  guests  of  the  queen. 


CLEOPATRA 


399 


Cornelia  herself  felt  highly  strung  and  slightly  nervous.  She 
wished,  for  the  first  time  since  she  reached  Alexandria,  that 
she  could  go  dressed  in  the  native  costume  of  a  Roman  lady. 
She  was  going  to  enjoy  the  hospitality  of  a  princess  who  was 
the  successor  of  thirty  odd  dynasties  of  Pharaohs;  who  was 
worshipped  herself  as  a  goddess  by  millions  of  Egyptians ;  who 
was  hailed  as  "Daughter  of  the  Sun,"  and  with  fifty  other 
fulsome  titles ;  a  princess,  furthermore,  who  was  supposed  to 
dispose  of  the  lives  of  her  subjects  as  seemed  right  in  her  own 
eyes,  without  law  of  man  or  god  to  hinder.  Cornelia  was  not 
afraid,  nay  rather,  anticipatory;  only  she  had  never  before 
been  so  thoroughly  conscious  that  she  was  Roman  down  to  her 
finger-tips  —  Roman,  and  hence  could  look  upon  the  faces  of 
princes  unabashed. 

The  people  saw  the  royal  chariot,  and  some  shouted  saluta- 
tions to  the  guests  whom  the  queen  delighted  to  honour.  The 
company  swept  v^  finder  the  magnificent  archway  leading  to 
the  palace;  ab.  m  rose  tall  Ionic  columns  of  red  granite 

of  Syene,  buildiu  ag  above  building,  labyrinths  of  pillars, 

myriads  of  statues.  Torches  were  blazing  from  every  direction. 
The  palace  grounds  were  as  bright  as  day.  The  light  breeze 
was  sweeping  through  rare  Indian  ferns  and  tropical  palms. 
The  air  was  heavy  with  the  breath  of  innumerable  roses.  Huge 
fountains  were  Cossing  up  showers  of  spray,  which  fell  tinkling 
into  broad  basins  wherein  the  cups  of  the  blue  and  white  lotus 
were  floating.  It  was  indeed  as  if  one  had  been  led  on  to 
enchanted  ground. 

Cornelia  and  her  friend  dismounted  from  their  chariot,  and 
were  led  through  an  endless  colonnade,  past  a  second,  lower 
gateway,  and  then  into  a  hall,  not  very  high  or  large,  but 
admirable  in  its  proportions,  with  a  whole  gallery  of  choice 
mythological  paintings  on  its  walls.     Small  heed  did  Cornelia 


■r 


400 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


give  to  them.  For  at  the  end  of  the  hall  rose  a  low  dais, 
whereon  sat,  in  a  gilded  chair,  the  same  person  who  had  beeu 
pointed  out  to  Cornelia  the  day  before  as  the  mistress  of 
Upper  and  Lower  Egypt. 

The  light  was  too  dim  to  discover  in  the  distance  anything 
new  in  the  face  of  the  queen.  She  wore  a  loose,  long  gown  of 
some  light  blue  silken  stuff;  and  her  belt,  shoes,  neck,  breast, 
and  ears  were  all  glittering  with  gems.  At  the  foo.  of  the  dais 
was  a  group  of  half  a  dozen  show"iy  dressed  chamberlains  and 
courtiers,  who  made  a  slight  motic  '  greeting  when  the  two 
guests  darkened  the  doorway.  One  of  these  functionaries 
advanced  to  Cornelia. 

"Your  ladyship,"  he  began,  in  a  smooth,  colourless  voice, 
"I  have  the  honour  to  be  the  Royal  Introducing  Chamberlain.' 
In  approaching  the  queen,  do  as  I  shall  direct.  First,  before 
advancing  to  the  dais  bow  slightly  j  then  at  the  foot  of  the  dais 
it  is  proper  —  " 

"Sir,"  interrupted  Cornelia,  drawing  herself  up  to  her  full 
height,  "  I  am  not  a  ^customed  to  your  prostrations  and  genu- 
flections, and  of  them  my  countrymen  make  sorry  work;  pray 
excuse  me."  And  without  waiting  for  reply  or  expostulation 
she  advanced  straight  toward  the  dais.  The  hall  was  small, 
the  steps  from  the  door  to  the  queen's  chair  few ;  but  never 
did  Cornelia  fare  on  more  tedious  journey.  She  knew  that  a 
half -horrified  titter  was  passing  through  the  group  of  courtiers. 
She  knew  that  Cleopatra  herself  had  stirred  in  her  seat,  as  if 
to  rise.  But  one  -^ord  sounded  in  Cornelians  ears,  and  that 
word  was  "Rome."  Were  not  Roman  citizens  nobles  among 
nobles,  and  Roman  senators  peers  of  kings !  And  she,  daughter 
of  the  Cornelii  and  Claudii,  whose  ancestors  had  broken  the 
might  of  Antiochus  the  Great  and  Mithridates  —  should  she 

^  cio-ayytAcvt. 


CLEOPATRA 


401 


not  look  in  the  face  the  h.nress  of  the  Lagidae?  Had  not  one 
hundred  years  before  Popilius,  the  Roman  commissioner,  come 
unarmed  into  the  presence  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  while  he 
waj  advancing  to  the  gates  of  defenceless  Alexai  iria,  drawn 
a  circle  in  the  dust  about  the  king,  and  bidden  him  answer, 
before  he  stepped  over,  whether  he  would  court  destruction  or 
obey  the  mandate  of  the  Republic  and  leave  Egypt  in  peace? 
And  had  not  the  great  king  obeyed  — humbly?  Why,  then, 
should  not  a  Roman  patrician  maiden  look  down  on  a  mere 
monarch,  who  was  a  pawn  in  the  hands  of  her  kinsfolk  and 
countrymen? 

To  repeat  these  things  is  long.  The  mind  moves  faster  than 
the  sunlight.  Cornelia  came  to  the  dais,  and  there  gave  the 
slightest  inclination  of  her  head  —  the  greeting  of  a  mistress  to 
slaves  — to  the  group  of  courtiers.  She  advanced  straight 
toward  the  royal  chair  and  stretched  forth  her  hand. 

"  I  am  your  debtor,  O  queen,  for  a  kindness  that  I  may  not 
soon,  I  fear,  repay  —  unless  you  comt  to  Rome." 

She  spoke  as  a  superior  addressing  an  inferior  who  had  ren- 
dered some  slight  service.  The  queen  rose  from  her  seat  and 
took  the  proffered  hand  without  the  least  hesitation. 

"  And  I  will  ask  for  none  other  reward  than  that  you  do 
honour  to  my  entertainment." 

The  voice  waa  wonderfully  soft,  modulated,  and  ringing; 
like  an  instrument  of  many  strings.  Every  syllable  blended 
into  the  next  in  perfect  harmony;  to  hear  a  few  words  was  like 
listening  unto  music. 

Cornelia  knew  later,  when  she  was  older  and  had  thought 
more,  that  tlie  queen  had  instantly  caught  the  defiant  mood  of 
her  gucst,  and  thereupon  left  nothing  unspared  to  cone"  ite 
it.  At  ti.at  moment,  how  3ver,  she  attempted  no  such  analysis 
of  motive.  She  was  conscious  of  only  one  thing:  the  luminous 
8d 


•|' 


>    ^1 


I  I 


402 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


III 


i^i 


ii 


l;i^ 


personality  of  Cleopatra.  The  queen  was  all  that  Cornelia  hul 
noticed  her  to  be  when  they  met  at  the  Great  Square;  but  she 
was  more  than  a  beautiful  woman.  In  fact,  in  mere  bodily 
perfection  Monime  or  Berenice  might  well  have  stood  beside 
her.  The  glance  of  the  queen  went  through  and  through  her 
guests  like  arrows  of  softly  burning  light.  It  was  impossible 
to  withdraw  one's  eyes  from  her;  impossible  to  shake  off  the 
spell  of  an  enjoyable  magnetism.  If  she  moved  her  long, 
shapely  fingers,  it  was  speech;  if  she  raised  her  hand,  elo- 
quence. As  shade  after  shade  of  varying  emotion  seemed  to 
pass  across  Cleopatra's  face,  it  was  as  if  one  saw  the  workings 
of  a  masterful  spirit  as  in  a  mirror;  and  now  could  cry,  "This 
is  one  of  the  Graces,"  and  now  "This  is  one  of  the  Fates,"  as 
half-girlish  candour  and  sweetness  was  followed  by  a  light- 
ning flash  from  the  eyes,  disclosing  the  deep,  far-recessed 
subtleties  of  the  soul  within.  Cornelia  had  entered  tlie 
hall  haughty,  defiant;  a  word  and  a  look  — she  was  the  most 
obedient  vassal. 

Cornelia  had  seen  many  a  splendid  banquet  and  dinner  party 
in  Rome.  Even  Oriental  kings  had  not  a  great  deal  to  teach 
the  "  masters  of  the  toga  "  in  ostentatious  luxury.  Perhaps  the 
queen  had  realized  this.  The  present  occasion  called,  indeed, 
for  very  little  formality,  for,  besides  Cornelia,  Cleoroenes  ^/as 
the  only  guest;  and  when  that  gentleman  inquired  politely  if 
his  Majesty,  the  King  Ptolemaeus,  was  to  honour  them  with 
his  presence,  Cleopatra  replied,  with  an  eloquent  raising  of 
the  eyebrows :  — 

"  The  king  will  be  to-night,  as  he  always  is,  with  his  tutor 
—  Pothinus." 

There  was  indescribable  scorn  in  the  last  word. 

The  doors  of  the  reception  hall  had  been  flung  back  on  noise- 
less pivots  by  unseen  hands.     The  banqueting  room  disclosed 


itiliB 


CLEOPATRA 


■03 


within  was  not  so  much  a  room  as  a  garden.  Flowers,  flowers 
were  everywhere,  roses,  violets,  narcissuses,  and  a  score  of 
others  breathing  forth  a  heavy  fragrance.  Overhead,  the  gold- 
studded  ceiling  was  convex  "-ed  into  a  vast  arbour  of  blending 
flowery  tints.  The  room  wus  'arge,  very  large  for  only  three 
banqueters ;  on  the  walls,  from  out  between  the  potted  tropi- 
cal plants,  shone  marvellous  marble  reliefs,  one  hundred  in 
all;  and  in  betwixt  them  were  matchless  paintings.  Framing, 
after  a  fashion,  the  pictures,  were  equally  perfect  embroider- 
ies, portraying  in  silk  and  fine  linen  the  stories  of  Thebes, 
the  kingly  house  of  Argos,  and  many  another  myth  of  fame. 
The  pillars  of  the  room  represented  palm  trees  and  Bacchic 
thyrsi;  skins  of  wild  beasts  were  fastened  high  up  to  the 
walls ;  and  everywhere  was  the  sheen  of  silver  and  gold,  the 
splendour  of  scarlet  and  purple  tapestries. 

"The  decorations  of  this  room,"  said  the  queen,  as  her  two 
guests  entered,  "  are  nearly  all  preserved  from  the  great  ban- 
queting pavilion  of  Ptolemaeus  Philadelphus,  which  he  erected 
for  the  grand  festival  that  ushered  in  his  reign." 

Cornelia  drew  back  as  her  foot  crossed  the  threshold.  Her 
saudals  trod  on  the  fair  white  cup  of  a  blooming  lily.  The 
queen  laughed  as  merrily  as  a  little  girl  at  her  confusion. 

"In  Eome,  I  doubt  not,"  she  said,  smiling,  "there  are  not 
flowers  enough  at  this  time  of  year  to  have  them  for  a  carpet. 
But  this  is  Alexandria.     Flowers  are  never  out  of  bloom." 

So  Cornelia  advanced,  but  perhaps  it  grieved  her  more  to 
tread  on  the  innocent  flowers,  than  any  small  thing  had  since 
she  left  Baise. 

And  then  the  banquet,  if  such  it  may  be  termed  when  there 
are  but  three  to  enjoy  it,  began.  Cleopatra  knew  well  that  she 
could  not  overwhelm  her  Roman  guest  with  show  of  plate  and 
gems,  nor  did  she  try.    But  Cornelia  forgot  about  such  things 


404 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


long  be  ■  they  rose.  For  the  queen  displayed  to  her  a 
myriad  uainty  perfections  and  refinemeuts  that  never  had 
endeared  themselves  to  the  grosser  Italian  gourmands.  Cle- 
oraenes  had  whispered  to  his  companion,  before  they  reached 
the  palace,  "Plato  tells  of  four  sorts  of  flattery;  but  I  can 
promise  you  a  thousand  sorts  from  Cleopatra  if  she  but  cares 
to  win  your  friendship."  And  surely  the  queen  did  thus 
desire.  For  Cornelia  was  surfeited  with  strange  dishes,  and 
rare  sherbets,  flowers,  and  music;  surfeited  with  everything 
save  the  words  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  Cleopatra. 

The  more  the  queen  spoke,  the  more  complete  became  the 
vassalage  of  her  guest.  Cornelia  discovered  that  this  womau, 
who  was  but  little  older  than  she,  could  speak  fluently  seven 
languages,  and  carried  about  with  her  an  exceedingly  accurate 
knowledge,  not  merely  of  the  administration  of  Egypt,  but  of 
the  politics  of  Rome,  and  the  details  of  the  great  contest  rack- 
ing the  Republic.  When  Cleopatra  asked  questions  concern- 
ing Roman  affairs,  Cornelia  was  fain  to  confess  ignorance  and 
be  put  to  shame.  And  as  the  evening  advanced,  Cornelia 
found  herself  talking  with  more  and  more  confidence  to  this 
woman  that  she  had  never  addressjed  until  an  hour  before. 
Cleopatra  of  course  knew,  as  all  Alexandria  knew,  that  Cor- 
nelia and  Fabia  were  Roman  ladies  of  the  highest  rank,  who 
had  been  forced  to  take  refuge  abroad  until  the  political  crisis 
was  over.  But  now  Cornelia  told  the  queen  the  true  reasons 
that  had  led  her  to  be  willing  to  submit  to  Demetrius's  friendly 
kidnapping;  and  when,  in  a  burst  of  frankness,  —which  in  a 
sauer  moment  Cornelia  would  have  deemed  unwise,  —  she  told 
of  her  betrothal  to  Drusus  and  willingness  to  wait  long  for  him, 
if  they  might  only  come  together  in  the  end,  the  queen  seemed 
unable  to  speak  with  her  usual  bright  vivacity.  Presently 
she  said :  — 


CLEOPATRA 


405 


l^'^ 


"  So  you  love  this  young  man  as  none  other?  You  are  willing 
to  be  a.11  your  life  his  handmaid,  his  slave?" 

"I  love  him,  assuredly,"  said  Cornelia,  with  a  little  heat. 
"  And  so  far  as  being  all  my  life  his  slave,  I've  given  that  never 
so  much  as  a  thought.     Where  love  is,  there  slavery  cannot  be. " 

'*  And  where  love  is  not,  there  slavery  must  be,  doubtless  you 
wish  to  add?  "  broke  in  the  queen. 

"  I  should  be  very  miserable  if  I  had  nothing  to  love,  which 
1  might  love  purely,  and  feel  myself  the  nobler  and  happier 
thereby." 

"  Then  pity  us  poor  mortals  who  cannot  climb  up  to  your 
Olympus !  Eh,  my  very  noble  Cleomenes, "  went  on  the  queen, 
addressing  the  Greek,  "do  I  not  deserve  compassion,  that 
I  have  not  been  able  to  find  some  Tigranes  of  Armenia,  or 
Parthian  prince,  who  will  be  all  in  all  to  me,  and  make  me 
forget  everything  in  worshipping  him?" 

These  were  the  first  words  that  evening  that  had  grated  on 
Cornelia.     A  little  ruffled,  she  replied:  — 

"  I  fear,  0  queen,  thp+:  if  you  are  awaiting  a  Tigranes  or  an 
Artavasdes  to  sue  for  }  our  hand,  you  will  indeed  never  find  a 
Jord  to  worship.  <^uintus  Drusus  is  indeed  wealthy  at  Rome, 
his  family  noble,  he  may  rise  to  great  things;  but  I  would  not 
lay  down  my  life  for  him  because  of  his  wealth,  his  lineage, 
or  his  fair  prospects.  It  is  not  these  things  hich  make  a 
common  woman  love  a  man." 

"But  I  am  not  a  common  woman,"  responded  Cleopatra, 
with  emphasis.  "I  am  ambitious,  not  to  be  led,  but  to  lead. 
I  must  rule  or  I  must  die.  I  cannot  love  a  master,  only  fear 
him.  Why,  because  I  was  born  a  woman,  must  I  give  up  all 
my  royal  aspirations  to  rise  to  a  great  place  among  princes, 
to  build  up  a  great  empire  in  the  East,  to  make  Alexandria 
a  capital  with  the  power  of  Rome,  the  culture  of  Athens,  the 


13 


■'"til 

. :  n 


^1' 
Iff 


406 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


:  ..„ 


'  r  " 


splendour  of  Babylon,  all  in  one?  It  is  because  I  have  these 
hopes  stirring  in  nje  that  I  may  love  no  man,  can  love  no  man.' 
Nothing  shall  stand  in  my  way;  nothing  shall  oppose  me. 
Whoever  thwarts  my  aubitions,  the  worse  for  him;  let  him 
die  —  all  things  must  die,  but  not  I,  until  I  have  won  my 
power  and  glory ! " 

For  once,  at  least,  the  queen's  emotions  had  run  away  with 
her;  she  spoke  hotly,  passionately,  as  though  tearing  her  words 
from  the  recesses  of  her  throbbing  heart.  Her  wonderful  voice 
was  keyed  in  half-bitter  defiance.  For  the  moment  Cornelia 
was  mistiess,  and  not  the  queen. 

"  0  queen,"  broke  in  the  young  Roman,  "  would  you  know  how 
I  feel  toward  yor  ?  " 
Cleopatra  looked  at  her  with  dilated  eyes. 
"I  feel  fo5  yvtu  a  very  great  sorrow.  I  know  not  whether 
you  will  or  wiil  not  do  as  you  wish  —  set  your  empire  over  the 
far  East,  a  rival,  friendly,  I  hope,  to  our  Rome;  but  this  I 
know,  that  with  your  glory,  and  with  ;-our  renown  among  men 
for  all  time,  you  will  go  down  to  your  grave  with  an  empty 
heart.     And  I  know  not  what  may  compensate  for  that." 

Cleomenes  was  clearly  a  little  disturbed  at  this  turn  to  the 
conversation ;  but  Cleopatra  bowed  her  head  on  her  hands.  It 
was  only  for  an  instant.  When  she  looked  up  once  more  there 
were  tears  in  her  eyes,  which  she  made  no  effort  to  conceal. 
Tlie  look  of  high  defiance  had  faded  from  her  face. 

"Think  kindly  of  me,  Lady  Cornelia,"  she  said;  "I  am  but 
a  wilful  girl  with  many  things  to  learn.     Perhaps  you  yourself 
know  that  purple  robes  do  not  make  a  light  heart." 
"That  I  know  well  and  sadly." 

"Therefore,"  went  on  the  queen,  "if  I  forget  myself,  and 
half  envy  a  cup  of  happiness  that  seems  dashed  from  my  lips, 
do  not  be  over  blameful." 


CLEOPATRA 


407 


"Never,"  responded  the  young  Roman. 

"Time  adva'ices,"  said  tha  queen;  "let  us  forget  that  any 
barriers  shut  us  out  from  perfect  bliss.  Let  us  call  in  the 
Egyptian  musicians;  and  cry  out  upon  me  if  my  looks  grow 
sad!" 

Whereat  a  whole  section  in  the  side  of  the  room  turned  on  a 
pivot,  and  there  entered  three  native  harpers  and  eight  pretty 
Egyptian  girls,  in  gauzy  dresses,  wlio  danced  in  intricate  fig- 
ures, and  juggled  with  balls;  now  with  two,  now  with  three, 
catching  them  with  their  hands  crossed.  Boys  ran  iu  and  out 
and  sprinkled  kyphi '  on  the  heads  of  the  three  feasters,  and 
flung  huge  wreaths  of  flowers  round  cheir  necks,  and  thrust 
lotus  flowers  in  their  hair.  And  all  the  time  the  girls  sang 
sweetly. 

The  queen  kept  har  guests  very  late. 

"We  of  Alexandria,"  said  she,  "make  little  difference 
between  night  and  day.     Our  city  is  a  new  Sybaris." 

And  all  through  the  evening  Cleopatra  kept  close  to  Cornelia, 
often  with  her  hand  upon  her,  as  though  extremely  loath  to  let 
her  go.  At  last  the  moon  crept  up  into  the  heavens,  and  as 
the  queen  and  her  guests  roved  out  of  the  heated  banqueting 
hall  into  the  cool  gardens,  the  pale  yellow  light  gently  bathed 
the  sweep  of  the  city,  which  lay  in  full  view  of  the  palace  ter- 
race. 

"All  sleep,"  said  Cleopatra,  "all  but  ourselves.  Let  there 
be  one  more  song,  and  then  farewell !  —  but  soon  to  meet  again." 

The  chorus  of  mair^ens,  which  followed  them,  sang,  in  Greek, 
the  hymn  of  Onomauritus  :  '  — 

"  Heavenly  Selene  !  goddess  queen  !  that  shed'st  abroad  the  light  I 
Bull-homed  moon  1  air-bab'*iQg  1  thou  wanderer  through  the  night  1 

^  A  mixture  of  myrrh,  frankincense,  aud  other  aromatic  materials. 
*  Elton,  translator. 


M  t 

!        i 


[  { 

u 


t. 


408 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


;| 


•!■ 


Moon  bearer  of  mighty  torch  !  thou  star-encircled  maidi 
^Voman  thou,  yet  male  the  same,  still  fresh  and  undecayed  I 
Thou  that  in  thy  steeds  deligbtest,  as  they  travel  through  the  sky, 
Clothed  in  brightness  I  mighty  mother  of  the  rapid  years  that  fly ; 
Fruit  dispenser  !  amber-visaged  1  melancholy,  yet  serene  I 
All  beholding  I  sleep-enamour'd  !  still  with  trooping  planets  seen  I 
Quiet  loving ;  who  in  pleasance  and  in  plenty  tak'st  delight ; 
Joy  diffusing  1    Fruit  maturing  1    Sparkling  ornament  of  night  I 
Swiftly  pacing !  ample-vested  !  star-bright  I  all  divining  maid  i 
Come  benignant  I  come  spontaneous  1  with  starry  sheen  an  .yed  I 
Sweetly  shining  1  save  us  virgin,  give  thy  holy  suppliants  aid  I " 

"  Yes,"  said  Cleopatra,  passing  her  hand  over  her  brow,  "  give 
us  aid,  either  thou,  O  moon,  or  some  other  power,  for  we  are 
full  weak  ourselves." 

When  the  queen  parted  with  her  guests  she  put  her  arms 
around  Cornelia's  waist  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead. 

"I  sent  for  you,"  said  Cleopatra,  "half  intending  to  amuse 
myself  with  the  boorishness  and  clumsy  insolence  which  I 
conceived  a  noble  Roman  lady  to  possess.  I  have  been  pun- 
ished. Promise  to  come  to  see  me  often,  very  often,  or  I  shall 
call  my  body-guards  and  keep  you  prisoner.  For  I  have  very 
few  friends." 

While  the  chariot  was  bearing  the  two  guests  away,  Cleom- 
enes  asked  Cornelia  what  she  thought  of  the  queen. 

"She  is  the  most  wonderful  woman  I  have  ever  met,"  was 
her  answer,  enthusiastic  and  characteristically  feminine.  "  I 
admire  her.     I  am  almost  her  slave." 

The  frequency  of  Cornelia's  visits  to  the  palace  on  following 
days  seemed  to  prove  that  the  admiration  was  not  unrecipro- 
c'ited.  Indeed,  Monime  and  Berenice  grew  jealous  of  the  queen 
for  stealing  their  new  friend  from  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
HOW  ulamhala's  words  came  true 


The  sentries  were  going  their  rounds ;  the  camp-fires  were 
burning  low.  Over  on  the  western  hills  bounding  the  Thes- 
salian  plain-land  lingered  the  last  bars  of  light.  It  was 
oppressively  warm,  and  man  and  beast  were  utterly  fatigued. 
Quinttis  Drusus  stripped  ofE  his  armour,  and  flung  himself  on 
the  turf  inside  his  tattered  leather  tent.  Vast  had  been  the 
changes  eighteen  months  of  campaigning  had  made  in  him. 
He  had  fought  in  Italy,  in  Spain,  in  the  long  blockade  of  the 
Pompeians  at  Dyrrachium,  He  had  learned  the  art  of  war  in 
no  gentle  school.  He  had  ceased  even  so  much  as  to  grumble 
inwardly  at  the  hardships  endured  by  the  hard-pressed  Caesa- 
rian army.  The  campaign  was  not  going  well.  Pompeius 
had  broken  through  the  blockade;  and  now  the  two  armies 
had  been  executing  tedious  manceuvres,  fencing  for  a  vantage- 
ground  before  joining  pitched  battle. 

Drusus  was  exceedingly  weary.  The  events  of  the  past  two 
years,  —  loves,  hates,  pleasures,  perils,  battles, —  all  coursed 
through  his  mind;  the  fairest  and  most  hideous  of  things 
were  blended  into  buzzing  confusion ;  and  out  of  that  confu- 
sion came  a  dull  consciousness  that  he,  Quintus  Drusus,  was 
thoroughly  weary  of  everything  and  anything  —  was  heavy  of 
heart,  was  consumed  with  hatred,  was  chafing  against  a  hun- 

40b 


410 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


dred   barriers    of    time,  space,  and   circumstance,  and  was 
utterly  impotent  to  contend  arjainst  them. 

The  Imperator  —  how  he  loved  and  adored  him!  Through 
all  the  campaigning  nothing  could  seem  to  break  the  strength 
of  that  nervous,  agile,  finely  strung  physique.  Sleeping  in 
carriages  or  litters ;  ever  moving ;  dictating  continually  books 
and  letters  to  a  secretary  if  for  an  hour  there  was  a  halt; 
dictating  even  while  on  horseback,  in  fact,  and  composing  two 
letters  at  the  same  time ;  riding  the  most  ungovernable  horses 
fearlessly  and  without  a  fall ;  galloping  at  full  speed  with  his 
hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  —  these  were  the  mere  external 
traits  that  made  him  wonderful  among  men.  "Worthy  of  all 
praise  was  the  discipline  by  which  the  Imperator  had  held  his 
troops  to  him  by  bonds  firmer  than  iron  ;  neither  noticing  all 
petty  transgressions,  nor  punishing  according  to  a  rigid  rule ; 
swift  and  sure  to  apprehend  mutineers  and  deserters ;  certain 
to  relax  the  tight  bands  of  discipline  after  a  hard-fought  battle 
with  the  genial  remark  that  "his  soldiers  fought  none  the 
worse  for  being  well  oiled  " ;  ever  treating  the  troops  as  com- 
rades, ind  addressing  them  as  "  fellow-soldiers,"  as  if  they 
were  but  sharers  with  him  in  the  honour  of  struggling  for  a 
single  great  end.  Drusus  had  known  him  to  ride  one  hundred 
miles  a  day  in  a  light  chariot  without  baggage,  march  continu- 
ally at  the  head  of  his  legions  on  foot,  sharing  their  fatigues 
in  the  most  malignant  weather,  swim  a  swollen  river  on  a  float 
of  inflated  skins,  always  travelling  faster  than  the  news  of  his 
coming  might  fly  before  him.  Tireless,  unsleeping,  all  provid- 
ing, all  accomplishing,  omniscient,  —  this  was  what  made 
Drusus  look  upon  his  general  as  a  being  raised  up  by  the 
Fates,  to  go  up  and  down  the  world,  destroying  here  and 
building  there.  The  immediate  future  might  be  sombre 
enough,  with  all  the  military  advantages  falling,  one  after 


HOW   ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE    411 


another,  into  Pompeius's  lap ;  but  doubt  the  ultimate  triumph 
of  Caesar?  The  young  Livian  would  have  as  readily  ques- 
tioned his  own  existence. 

Some  one  thrust  back  the  flaps  of  the  tent,  and  called  insids 
into  the  darkness  :  — 

"  Are  you  here,  Drusus  ?  " 

« I  am,"  was  the  wearied  answer.    "  Is  that  Antonius  ?  " 

"Yes.  Come  out.  We  may  as  well  dispose  of  our  cold 
puis  before  the  moon  rises,  and  while  we  can  imagine  it  pea- 
cocks, Lucrine  oysters,  or  what  not." 

"  If  sight  were  the  only  sense ! "  grumbled  Drusus,  as  he 
pulled  himself  together  by  a  considerable  effort,  and  staggered 
to  his  feet. 

Outside  the  tent  Antonius  was  waiting  with  a  helmet  half 
full  of  the  delectable  viand,  which  the  two  friends  proceeded 
to  share  together  as  equally  as  they  might  in  the  increasing 
darkness. 

"You  are  over  sober  to-night,"  said  Antonius,  when  this 
scarcely  elaborate  meal  was  nearly  finished. 

"  Perpol ! "  replied  Drusus,  "  have  I  been  as  a  rule  drunken 
of  late  ?  My  throat  hardly  knows  the  feeling  of  good  Faler- 
nian,  it  is  so  long  sine  I  have  tasted  any." 

"  I  doubt  if  there  is  so  much  as  a  draught  of  posca  ^  in  the 
army,"  said  Antonius,  yawning.  "  I  imagine  that  among  our 
friends,  the  Pompeians,  there  is  plenty,  and  more  to  spare. 
Meherde,  I  feel  that  we  must  storm  their  camp  just  to  get 
something  worth  drinking.  But  I  would  stake  my  best  villa 
that  you  have  not  been  so  gloomy  for  mere  lack  of  victuals, 
unless  you  have  just  joined  the  Pythagoreans,  and  have  taken 
a  vow  not  to  eat  fish  or  beans." 
"I  do  not  know  that  I  am  especially  gloomy  to-night," 

1 A  drink  of  vinegar  and  water  very  common  among  the  soldieri. 


r 
I 

\ 


412 


g 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAE 


replied  Drusus,  a  bit  testily.    «I  know  little  whereon  to  make 
merry." 

"  The  arrows  of  Amor,"  hinted  Antonius,  "sink  deep  in  the 
soul,  and  the  god  is  unfair;  he  shoots  venomed  darts;  the 
poison  ever  makes  the  pain  greater." 

"I  would  you  could  endure  your  own  troubles,"  retorted  the 
other,  "  and  let  me  care  for  mine ! " 

"Perpol,  friend,"  replied  Antonius,  "don't  be  vexed!  I 
see  it  is  a  case  of  your  wanting  little  said  on  a  sore  point. 
Well,  keep  silent,  I  won't  tease  j<n.  Doesn't  Theognis 
declare :  — 

"  •  Caress  me  not  with  words,  while  far  away 
Thy  heart  is  absent  and  thy  fe  jlings  stray '  ? » 

And  doubtless  you  would  reverse  the  saying  and  put  'my 
heart '  for  '  thy  heart.'    Forgive  me." 

But  Drusus,  now  that  the  ice  was  broken,  was  glad  to 
talk. 

"Now,  amice,  I  won't  harbour  any  ill  feeling.  I  know  that 
you  don't  look  at  women  the  way  I  do.  If  you  had  ever  fallen 
in  love  with  one  like  Cornelia,  it  would  have  been  different. 
As  it  is,  you  can  only  stare  at  me,  and  say  to  yourself,  'How 
strange  a  sensible  fellow  like  Drusus  should  care  for  a  girl 
from  whom  he  has  been  parted  for  nearly  two  years ! '  That's 
why  I  doubt  if  your  sympathy  can  be  of  any  great  solace  to 


me. 


"  Well,"  said  Antonius,  washing  down  his  puis  with  a  draught 
of  water  from  a  second  helmet  at  hand,  "  I  can't  say  that  I 
would  b.'  full  of  grief  two  years  from  the  day  my  beloved  Ful- 
via  was  taken  from  me.  But  there  are  women  of  many  a  sort. 
Some  are  vipers  to  sting  your  breast,  some  are  playthings,  some 
are  — what  shall  I  call  them  —  goddesses  ?  no,  one  may  not 

1  Elton,  translator. 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE     413 


kiss  Juno;  flowers?  they  fade  too  early ;  silver  and  gold  ?  that 
is  rubbish.  I  have  no  name  for  them.  But  believe  me,  Quintus, 
I  have  met  this  Cornelia  of  yours  once  or  twice,  and  I  believe 
that  she  is  one  of  those  women  for  whom  my  words  grow 
weak." 

"  Then  you  can  sympathize,  can  feel,  for  me,"  said  Drusus, 
as  he  lay  back  with  his  head  oil  the  dark  green  sward. 

"  Yes,  as  a  poor  man  who  has  always  possessed  nothing  can 
feel  for  a  rich  merchant  whose  whole  fortune  is  about  to 
founder  at  sea.  Do  not  spurn  my  feeble  sort  of  pity.  But  do 
you  know  nothing  of  her,  not  a  word,  a  sign  ?  Is  she  alive  or 
dead  ?    Much  less,  does  she  still  care  for  you  ?  " 

"Nothing!"  answered  Drusus,  and  the  sense  of  vexation 
and  helplessness  choked  his  utterance.  "She  vanished  out  of 
sight  at  Baiae,  as  a  flash  of  lightning  passes  away  in  the  sky. 
I  cannot  imagine  the  cause  of  her  disappearance.  The  pirates, 
indeed,  might  have  wished  to  take  her  for  ransom ;  but  no, 
they  bore  her  o£E  with  never  a  demand  for  money  from  any 
friend  or  relative.  I  have  tried  to  trace  them  —  the  Pompeian 
ships  on  every  sea  make  it  impossible.  I  have  questioned 
many  prisoners  and  spies ;  she  is  not  at  the  Pompeian  camp 
with  her  uncle.  Neither  can  I  discover  that  her  kinsmen 
among  the  enemy  themselves  know  where  she  is.  And  to  this 
is  added  that  otfier  mystery :  whither  has  my  Aunt  Fabia  van- 
ished ?  How  much  of  the  account  of  those  who  followed  her 
to  the  river  dock  is  to  be  believed  —  that  pirates  saved  her 
from  Gabinius,  and  then  abducted  her  ?  Upon  all,  my  clever 
freedman  Agias  is  gone— gone  without  ever  a  word,  though  I 
counted  him  faithful  as  my  own  soul ! " 

"  And  what  then  do  you  expect  ?  "  asked  Antonius,  not  with- 
out friendly  interest. 

"  What  can  a  man,  who  dares  to  look  the  situation  in  the 


^  nil 


\4 


-■  ■! 
;  i 


t 


414  A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 

t3ce,  expect,  except  something  too  horrible  to  utter?"  and 
Drusus  groaned  in  his  agony. 

«  You  mean — "  began  his  friend. 

"That  the  pirates  have  kept  Cornelia  and  perhaps  Fabia  m 
their  vile  clutches  until  this  hour;  unless,  indeed,  the  Fates 
have  been  merciful  and  they  are  dead !    Do  you  wonder  at  my 

pain?"  ,.      ,„ 

"Phui!  we  will  not  imagine  any  such  disagreeable  thing! 
said  Antonius,  in  a  sickly  effort  to  make  banter  at  the  other's 

f Aopa 

"Don't  speak  again  unless  you  want  me  your  enemy," 
threatened  Drusus,  springing  up  in  fury.  Antonius  Imew  his 
own  interests  enough  to  keep  quiet;  besides,  his  friend  s  pain 
cut  him  to  the  heart,  and  he  knew  himself  that  Drusus  s  dread 
was  justified  under  the  circumstances. 

"  Do  you  think  there  will  be  a  battle  to-morrow  ?  "  demanded 
Drusus,  after  some  interval  of  gloomy  silence. 

« I  would  to  the  gods  it  might  be  so,"  was  his  answer ;     are 
vou  thirsting  for  blood  ?  " 

Drusus  half  drew  his  short  sword,  which  even  m  camp 
never  left  the  side  of  officer  or  private  during  that  cam- 

^^'^Thirst  for  blood  ?  "  he  g  owled.  "Yes,  for  the  lives  of 
Lucius  Lentulus,  and  Domitius  and  his  accursed  younger  son 
I  am  hot  as  an  old  gladiator  for  a  chance  to  spill  their  blood . 
If  Cornelia  suffers  woe  unutterable,  it  will  be  they -they 
who  brought  the  evil  upon  herl  It  may  not  be  a  philosophic 
mood,  but  all  the  animal  has  risen  within  me,  and  rises  more 
and  more  the  longer  I  think  upon  them  and  on  her." 

"Come,"  said  Antonius,  lifting  his  friend  by  the  arm,  "and 
let  us  lie  down  in  the  tent.  There  will  be  toil  enough  t> 
morrow ;  and  we  must  take  what  rest  we  may.'' 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE    415 

II 

On  that  same  night,  in  a  very  sumptuous  tent,  fresh  from  an 
ample  dinner  and  a  season  over  choice  wines,  the  high  and  the 
mighty  of  Caesar's  enemies  were  taking  counsel  together.    No 
longer  were  they  despairing,  panic-stricken  fugitives,  driven 
from  their  native  land  which  they  had  abandoned  a  prey  to  the 
invader.    The  strength  of  the  East  had  gathered  about  them. 
Jews,  Armenians,  and  Arabians  were  among  their  auxiliary 
forces;  Asia  Minor,  Greece,  the  Archipelago,  had  poured  out 
for  them  levies  and  subsidies.    In  the  encampment  were  the 
vassal  kings,  Deiotarus  of  Galatia  and  Ariarathes  of  Cappadocia, 
allies  who  would  share  the  triumph  of  the  victorious  Pompeius. 
For  none  could  doubt  that  the  Magnus  had  proved  his  right 
to  be  called  the  favoured  child  of  Fortune.     Had  not  Caesar 
been  utterly  defeated  at  Dy rrachium  ?   Was  he  not  now  almost 
a  fugitive  in  the  interior  of  Greece,  -  liable  at  any  moment  to 
have  his  forces  cut  to  pieces,  and  he  himself  to  be  slain  in 
battle  like  a  second  Catilina,  or  to  die  by  the  executioners 
axe  like  another  Carbo  ?    Had  not  several  delighted  Pompeians 
just  hastened  away  to  Lesbos,  to  convey  to  Cornelia,  the  wife 
of  the  Magnus,  the  joyful  tidings  that  Caesar's  power  was 
broken  and  the  war  was  over  ? 

Throughouf  the  Pompeian  camps  there  was  feasting  and 
revelry,  soldiers  trolled  low  songs  deriding  their  opponents, 
and  drunk  themselves  stupid,  celebrating  in  advance  the  return 
of  the  victorious  army  to  Italy.  Their  officers  were  looking 
forward  even  more  eagerly  to  their  reinstatement  in  their 
old  haunts  and  pleasures  at  Rome.  Lucius  Ahenobarbus,  who 
was  outside  the  tent  of  the  Magnus,  while  his  father  was  tak- 
ing part  in  the  conference,  was  busy  recounting  to  a  crony  the 
arrangements  he  was  making. 


■la 

H 

r- 

i- 

h 


k 


i  t 


■  ! !    M 


i  ,t 


416 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


"  I  have  sent  a  freedman  back  to  Borne  to  see  that  my  rooms 
are  fumiE'ied  and  put  in  order.  But  I  have  told  him  that  I 
need  a  suite  near  the  Forum,  if  possible,  so  as  to  be  convenient 
for  the  canvass  when  I  sue  for  quaestor  at  the  next  election, 
for  it  is  time  I  began  on  my  'round  of  offices.'"  (A  " round 
of  offices"  being,  according  to  this  worthy  young  gentleman, 
an  inalienable  right  to  every  male  scion  of  his  family.) 

Within  the  debate  was  waxing  hot.  Not  that  any  one  had 
the  least  doubts  that  the  Caesarians  were  at  their  last  gasp; 
rather  it  was  so  extremely  difficult  to  decide  how  the  spoils 
of  victory  were  to  be  equitably  shared,  and  what  was  almost 
equally  important,  how  the  hostile  and  the  neutral  were  to  be 
punished.  The  noble  lords  were  busy  settling  amongst  them- 
selves who  should  be  consuls  for  several  years  to  come,  and 
how  the  confiscated  villas  of  the  proscribed  Caesarians  should 
be  divided.  As  to  the  military  situation,  they  were  all  com- 
plaisance. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  a  real  battle,"  Pompeius  was  saying. 
"  Our  superior  cavalry  will  rout  their  whole  army  before  the 
infantry  join  the  attack." 

And  Labienus,  the  only  officer  who  had  deserted  Caesar,  pro- 
tested that  the  opposing  legions  had  long  since  been  thinned  of 
their  Gallic  veterans,  that  only  raw  recruits  composed  them  now. 

Loudly  the  councillors  wrangled  over  the  successor  to  Caesar's 
pontificate ;  Scipio,  Doraitius,  and  another  great  noble,  Lentulus 
Spinther,  all  had  their  claims.  Domitius  was  clamouring  against 
delay  in  disposing  of  Caesar,  and  in  returning  to  Italy,  to  be- 
gin a  general  distribution  of  spoils,  and  sanguinary  requital 
of  enemies  and  neutrals.  The  contest  over  the  pontificate  grew 
more  and  more  acrimonious  each  minute. 

"  Gentlemen,"  broke  in  Pompeius,  "  I  would  that  you  could 
agree  amongst  yourselves.      It  is  a  grievous  thing  that  we 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE     417 


must  thus  quaxrel  with  bitterness,  when  victory  is  within  our 
grasp." 

But  the  war  of  words  went  on  hotter  and  hotter.  Lentulus 
Crus  noticed  that  Pompeius  looked  pale  and  worried. 

"  You  look  careworn,  Magnus,"  he  whispered ;  "  it  will  be  a 
relief  for  the  burdens  of  war  to  be  off  your  shoulders ! " 

"  I  know  not  how  this  all  wiU  come  out,"  said  the  general. 
"  All  the  chances  are  in  our  favour.  We  have  numbers,  the  best 
position,  cavalry,  the  prestige  of  victory.  Labienus  cannot  be 
mistaken  in  his  estimate  of  Caesar's  men ;  yet  I  am  afraid,  I 
am  almost  timorous." 

"  It  is  but  the  natural  fear  lest  some  slight  event  dim  your 
excellency's  great  glory.  Our  position  is  too  secure  for  re- 
verse," remarked  Lentulus,  soothingly. 

"Great  glory  — "  repr.ted  Pompeius,  "yes,  that  makes  me 
afraid.    Remember  Ulauihala's  words,  —  they  haunt  me :  — 

"  '  He  that  ia  highest  shall  rise  yet  higher, 
He  that  ia  second  shall  utterly  fall.' 

Lentulus,  I  know  Cagsar  is  greater  than  I !  " 

Before  he  could  continue,  Labienus  had  risen  to  his  feet  in 
the  council. 

"  An  oath !  an  oath,  gentlemen ! "  cried  the  renegade  legate. 
"  Swear  all  after  ine !  '  By  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  Optimus,  Max- 
imus,  I  swear  not  to  return  from  the  battle  until  victorious  over 
Caesar ! ' " 

All  the  council  rose. 

"  We  swear ! "  cried  a  score  of  tongues,  as  though  their  oath 
was  the  lightest  thing  imaginable. 

"  Bravely  done !  "  shouted  Labienus,  while  the  two  Lentuli 
and  Domitius  and  Scipio  and  many  another  scion  of  the  great 
noble  houses  joined  in  the  oath.  "Hem I  Most  excellent 
3b 


ij 


(  i 


418 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


r' 


Magnus,  you  do  not  have  confidence  enough  in  your  own  cause 
to  join  us.    Do  you  doubt  our  loyalty  or  soldierly  qualities ! " 

"Perpoll"  replied  Pompeius,  with  a  rather  ill-concealed 
effort  to  speak  gayly,  "  do  you  think,  good  Labienus,  that  I  am 
as  distrustful  of  you  as  Caesar  ought  to  be  of  his  men  ?  " 

And  the  Magnus  also  took  the  oath. 

Outside  the  tent  the  sentries  were  exchanging  their  chal- 
lenges.   It  was  the  end  of  the  second  watch  of  the  night.* 

"  It  is  late,  gentl'^nien,"  said  Pompeius.  "  I  believe  that  I 
have  given  my  orders.  Remember  our  watch-word  for  to- 
morrow." 

"  Hercules  Invictus  I "  shouted  one  and  all. 

"  *  Unconquerable '  we  shall  be,  I  trust,"  continued  the 
commander-in-chief.  "Good-night,  gentlemen;  we  meet  to- 
morrow." 

The  council  broke  up,  and  filed  out  of  the  tent.  Lentulus 
Spinther  paused  to  cast  a  look  of  savage  au  t  at  Scipio,  who 
lingered  behind.  The  contest  over  the  pontificate  still  ran- 
kled in  his  breast.  That  four  and  twenty  hours  hence  both 
of  these  aristocratic  gentlemen  might  have  more  pressing  things 
*")  think  of  seemingly  entered  the  head  of  neither.  Lentulus 
Crus,  Domitius,  and  Scipio  waited  after  the  others  were  gone. 

"  I  have  been  wondering  all  day,"  said  the  genial  Domitius, 
when  the  tent  had  emptied,  "  how  Caesar  will  comport  himself 
if  he  is  taken  prisoner  and  not  slain  in  battle.  I  give  him 
credit  for  not  being  likely  to  flee  away." 

"  I  trust  he  Tvill  die  a  soldier's  death,"  replied  Pompeius, 
gloomily.  "  It  would  be  a  grievous  thing  to  have  him  fall  into 
my  hands.  He  has  been  my  friend,  my  father-in-law.  I 
could  not  treat  him  harshly." 

"  Doubtless,"  said  the  ever  suave  Lentulus  Cms,  "  it  would 


^  Midnight. 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE     419 


be  most  disagreeable  for  you,  Magnus,  to  have  to  reward  such 
an  enemy  of  the  Republic  as  he  deserves.  But  your  excel- 
lency will,  of  course,  bow  to  the  decrees  of  the  Senate,  and — I 
fear  it  will  be  very  hard  to  persuade  the  conscript  fathers  that 
Caesar  has  earned  any  mercy." 

"Vahl  gentlemen,"  retorted  Pompeius,  pressing  his  hands 
together,  and  walking  up  and  down:  "I  have  been  your 
tool  a  long  while !  I  never  at  heart  desired  this  war !  A  hun- 
dred times  I  would  draw  back,  but  you  in  some  way  prevented. 
I  ha\8  been  made  to  say  things  that  I  would  fain  have  left 
unsaid.  I  am  perhaps  less  educated  and  more  superstitious 
than  you.  I  believe  that  there  are  gods,  and  they  punish  the 
shedders  of  innocent  blood.  And  much  good  Roman  blood 
has  been  shed  since  you  had  your  way,  and  drove  Caesar  into 
open  enmity ! " 

"  Of  course,"  interposed  Domitius,  his  face  a  little  flushed 
with  suppressed  anger,  "it  is  a  painful  thing  to  take  the 
lives  of  fellow-countrymen;  but  consider  the  price  that 
patriots  must  pay  for  liberty." 

"Price  paid  for  liberty,"  snorted  Pompeius,  in  rising  dis- 
gust, "phui!  Let  us  at  least  be  honest,  gentlemen !  It  is  very 
easy  to  cry  out  on  tyrants  when  our  ambition  has  been  disap- 
pointed. But  I  am  wasting  words.  Only  this  let  me  say. 
When,  to-morro\i^,  we  have  slain  or  captured  our  enemy,  it  will 
be  /  that  determine  the  future  policy  of  the  state,  and  not 
yoiil  I  will  prove  myself  indeed  the  Magnus!  I  will  be  a 
tool  no  longer." 

The  three  consulars  stared  at  each  other,  at  loss  for  words. 

"  Time  wastes,  gentlemen,"  said  Pompeius.  "  To  your  sev- 
eral commands  !    You  have  your  orders." 

The  Magnus  spoke  in  a  tone  that  admonished  the  three  oli- 
garchs to  bow  in  silence  and  go  out  without  a  word. 


if 


.!  '     11 


'     t 

ii, 
I    t    , 


.1 


420 


A  FEIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"  His  excellency  is  a  bit  temptea  to  play  the  high  tragedian 
to-night,"  sneered  Domitius,  recovering  from  his  first  conster- 
nation. "  He  will  think  differently  to-morrow.  But  of  all  things, 
my  good  Lentulus  (if  it  comes  your  way),  see  that  Caesar  is 
qulatly  killed — no  matter  what  fashion;  it  will  save  us  end- 
less trouble." 

"  Meherde ! "  quoth  the  other,  "  do  I  need  that  advice  ?  And 
again  remind  me  to-morrow  of  this.  We  must  arrange  the 
dividing  of  the  estate  of  that  young  reprobate,  Quintus  Drusus, 
who  gave  us  some  anxiety  two  years  ago.  But  I  imagine  that 
must  be  deferred  until  after  the  battle." 

And  so  they  separated,  and  the  two  armies  —  scarce  five 
miles  apart  —  slept;  and  the  stars  watched  over  them. 

in 

The  sun  was  climbing  out  of  the  dark  bank  of  clouds  that 
pressed  down  upon  the  eastern  horizon.  The  green  plain  of 
Pharsalus  lay  spread  out  far  and  wide  xinder  the  strengthening 
light ;  the  distant  hills  were  peering  dimly  out  f ror"  the  mist ; 
the  acropolis  of  Pharsalus  itself,  —  perhaps  tb  Homeric 
Phthia,  dwelling  of  Achilles,  —  with  its  two  peak  crags,  five 
hundred  feet  in  height,  frowned  down  upon  the  Casarian  camp. 
The  Enipeus  and  one  or  two  minor  streams  were  threading 
their  way  in  silver  ribbons  down  toward  the  distant  Peneus. 
The  fertile  plain  was  green  and  verdant  with  the  bursting  sum- 
mer. The  scent  of  clover  hung  in  the  air,  and  with  it  the 
fragrance  of  thyme.  Wild  flowers  were  scattered  under  the 
feet.  The  ea:  '  honeybee  was  hovering  over  the  dew-laden 
petals.  Wakeful  thrushes  were  carolling  out  of  the  thickets. 
A  thin  grey  fog  was  drifting  off  of  the  valley,  soon  to  vanish 
in  the  blue  of  a  perfect  day.  Clear  and  sweet  the  notes  of  the 
trumpets  called  the  soldiers  from  their  camp.    The  weary  men 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE     421 


shook  the  sleep  from  their  eyes.  There  was  a  hurried  pound- 
ing of  grain  in  the  stone  mortars,  breakfasts  even  more  hur- 
ried. Then  again  the  trumpets  called  out  their  signal.  Busy 
hands  tore  up  the  tent  pegs,  other  hands  were  folding  the 
coverings,  gathering  up  the  poles  and  impedimenta,  and  loading 
them  on  the  baggage  animals. 

The  soldiers  were  grumbling  as  soldiers  will.  Drusus,  who 
emerged  from  his  own  tent  just  as  it  was  about  to  be  pulled 
down  about  his  ears,  heard  one  private  growl  to  another :  "  Look 
at  the  sun  rising !  What  a  hot  day  we  shall  have !  ^depol ! 
will  there  never  be  an  end  to  this  marching  and  countermarch- 
ing, skirmishing  and  intrenching,  —  water  to  drink,  puis  to 
eat,  —  I  didn't  take  the  oath '  for  that.  No  plunder  here,  and 
the  sack  of  Gomphi,  the  last  town  stormed,  amounted  to 
nothing." 

Drusus  would  have  rebuked  the  man  for  breeding  discon- 
tent in  the  army,  but  at  that  moment  he  and  every  other 
around  him  for  once  relaxed  that  stringent  discipline  that  held 
them  in  bands  of  iron.  A  third  trumpet  call  cut  the  air,  quick, 
shrill,  penetrating. 

"  To  arms ! "  Every  centurion  was  shouting  it  to  his  men. 
The  baggage  animals  were  left  unladen.  A  cohort  that  was 
about  to  leave  the  camp  in  marching  order  halted,  and  began 
to  throw  away  its  impedimenta,  when  Caesar  himself  rode  up 
to  them. 

"  Fellow-soldiers,"  said  the  Imperator,  smiling  as  though  he 
had  to  reveal  a  great  piece  of  good  fortune,  "  we  can  postpone 
the  march.  Let  us  put  our  hearts  into  the  battle  for  which  we 
have  longed,  and  meet  the  foe  with  resolute  souls,  for  now  or 
never  is  our  opportunity !  " 

'' lot  lot "  cried  a  thousand  hoarse  throats. 


41 


i  i- 


I  \ 


1  The  military  oath  of  obedience. 


422 


A    '  RIEND  OF  C^SAR 


Out  of  confusion  ciuii.  the  most  perfect  order.  Drusus  ran 
to  the  horse  thfe*-  h  d  yielded  for  a  pack  animal  on  the 
march,  saddled,  n.  .itt*.'  flew  away  to  Caesar's  side,  his  heart 
pounding  in  his  .    i     > . 

"Pompeius  is  .  .  s.  k  o  it  his  men !  "  soldier  was  shouting  to 
soldier.  Legion  tit  f.  ii  a  filed  ^orth  from  the  camp.  Caesar, 
sitting  with  easy  g'  h  <>;  -is  o^-  a  ^"-'ourite  charger  which  he 
himself  had  bred.  .;avc;  in  «•<*'■.  .i^.ioerate  voice  the  la,st  orders 
to  his  legates.  I 'i  ..j"^  i't  ein  at  the  general's  side,  ready 
to  go  anywhere  oi  do  aic,  ,1'  ag  that  was  needed,  his  position 
being  one  of  gent  lal  aide-vla-taiap. 

Cajsar  was  facing  east;  Pompeius,  west.  Five  miles  of 
mainly  level  country  had  extended  between  the  camps,  but 
Pompeius  had  pitclied  on  a  hill  site,  with  a  river  and  hills  tc 
flank  him.  There  he  might  safely  have  defied  attack.  But  he 
xiad  come  down  from  the  eminence.  He  had  led  his  army  out 
into  the  plain,  and  the  camp  was  a  full  mile  behind.  The  long 
ranks  of  the  Pompeians  were  splendid  with  all  the  bravery  of 
war.  On  the  right  wing  by  the  river  lay  his  Cilician  and 
Spanish  cohorts,  led  by  Lentulus  Crus,  —  the  flower  of  the  Pom- 
peian  infantry.  Scipio  held  the  centre  with  two  Syrian  legions. 
On  the  left,  Domitius  was  in  command  and  Pompeius  accom- 
panied him.  Seven  cohorts  were  behind  in  the  fortified  camp. 
A  great  mass  of  auxiliaries  and  volunteei-s,  as  well  as  two 
thousand  reenlisted  veterans,  gave  strength  to  the  lines  (»f 
fully  recruited  cohorts.  Out  on  the  left  wing,  reaching  up  on  to 
the  foothills,  lay  the  pride  of  the  oligarchs,  seven  thousand 
splendid  cavalry,  the  pick  and  flower  of  the  exiled  youth  and 
nobility  of  Rome,  reenforced  by  the  best  squadrons  of  the  East. 
Here  Labienus  led.  The  Pomi)eian  ranks  were  in  three  lines, 
drawn  up  ten  deep.  Forty-five  thousand  heavy  infantry  were 
they ;  and  the  horse  and  light  troops  were  half  as  many  - 


KiP" 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE    423 


Spaniards,  Africans,  Italian  exiles,  Greeks,  Asiatics — the  glory 
of  every  warlike,  classic  race. 

Slowly,  slowly,  the  CVsarian  legionaries  advanced  over  the 
plain.  Drusus  knew  that  oae  of  the  most  crucial  hours  of  his 
life  was  before  him,  yet  he  was  very  calm.  He  saw  some  wild 
roses  growing  on  a  bush  by  the  way,  and  thought  how  pretty 
they  would  look  in  a  wreath  on  Cornelia's  hair.  He  exchanged 
jokes  with  his  fellow-officers ;  scolded  a  soldier  who  had  come 
away  without  his  sword  in  his  sheath ;  asked  Antonius,  when 
he  came  acn-^s  him,  if  he  did  not  envy  Achilles  for  his  coi  ntry- 
seat.  It  waa  as  if  he  were  Roing  c  the  same  tedious  march  of 
days  and  days  gone  by.  Yet,  witl  it  all,  he  felt  himselt  far 
more  intensely  exciteu  than  ever  before.  lie  knew  that  his 
cairn  was  su  unnatural  that  he  wished  to  cry  aloud,  to  run, 
weep,  to  do  ai,  thing  to  break  it.  This  was  to  be  tiie  end  of 
the  great  drama  that  had  begun  the  day  Lentulus  and  Marcellus 
tirst  sat  down  as  consuls  ! 

Sic  vly,  slowly,  that  long  snake,  the  marching  army, 
dragged  out  of  the  camp.  The  sun  was  high  in  the  sky ; 
the  last  cloud  had  vanished ;  the  blue  above  vas  as  cle  «r 
and  translucent  as  it  is  conceivable  anything  nay  be  a  J 
yet  retain  its  colour  —  not  become  clear  light.  Th»  liead  if 
the  column  was  six  hundred  paces  from  th*^  lent  Pom- 
peian  lines  which  awaited  them.  Theu  coho  after  uhort 
filed  off  to  the  right  and  left,  and  the  line  )f  b  ttle  was  ready. 
On  the  right  was  the  tetith  legion,  on  the  ift  aie  weak  ninth, 
reenforced  by  the  eighth.  There  wei'-  ei^  it ,  cohorts  in  all, 
to  oppose  one  himdred  and  ten.  B  the  ranks  of  Caesar's 
cohorts  were  thin.  The  numbers  were  ;ar  c  half  as  many  as 
in  those  of  the  foe.  And  to  confront  Labienus  and  his  cav- 
alry Caesar  had  but  one  thousand  horse.  is  army  stood  in 
three  lines,  facing  the  enemy's  infantry     b^  i,  though  it  weak- 


k 


484 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


ened  his  own  legions  dangerously,  there  was  but  one  thing  to 
do,  unless  Labienus  was  to  force  around  the  flank,  and  sweep 
all  before  him.  Six  cohorts  Caesar  stationed  at  the  rear  of  his 
right  wing,  a  defence  against  the  hostile  cavalry.  The  third 
line  of  the  legions  the  Imperator  commanded  to  hold  back 
until  he  ordered  them  otherwise,  for  on  them  lay  the  turning 
of  the  battle. 

Antonius  commanded  the  left,  Publius  Sulla  the  right,  Cal- 
vinus  the  centre.  Caesar  himself  took  post  on  his  own  right 
wing  opposite  Pompeius.  Then,  when  the  lines  were  formed,  he 
rode  down  before  his  men,  and  addressed  them ;  not  in  gaudy 
eloquence,  as  if  to  stir  a  flagging  courage,  but  a  manly  request 
that  they  quit  themselves  as  became  his  soldiers.  Ever  had 
he  sought  reconciliation,  he  said,  ever  peace ;  unwillingly  had 
he  exposed  his  own  soldiers,  and  unwillingly  attacked  his  ene- 
mies. And  to  the  six  chosen  cohorts  in  the  fourth  line  he 
gave  a  special  word,  for  he  bade  them  remember  that  doubt- 
less on  their  firmness  would  depend  the  fate  of  the  battle. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  in  closing,  while  every  scarred  and  tattered 
veteran  laughed  at  the  jest,  "only  thrust  your  pila  in  the 
faces  of  those  brave  cavaliers.  They  will  turn  and  flee  if 
their  handsome  faces  are  likely  to  be  bruised."  And  a  grim 
chuckle  went  down  the  line,  relieving  the  tension  that  was 
making  the  oldest  warriors  nervous. 

Caesar  galloped  back  to  his  position  on  his  own  right  wing. 
The  legions  were  growing  restive,  and  there  was  no  longer 
cause  for  delay.  The  officers  were  shouting  the  battle-cry 
down  the  lines.  The  Imperator  nodded  to  his  trumpeter,  and 
a  single  sharp,  long  peal  cut  the  air.  The  note  was  drowned 
in  the  rush  of  twenty  thousand  feet,  the  howl  of  myriads  of 
voices. 

"  Venui  victrixl"    The  battle-cry  was  tossed  from  mouth  to 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE    425 


mouth,  louder  and  louder,  as  the  mighty  mass  of  men  in  iron 
swept  on. 

"  Venu8  victrixl"  And  the  shout  itself  was  dimmed  in  the 
crash  of  mortal  battle,  when  the  foremost  Caesarians  sent  their 
pila  dashing  in  upon  the  enemy,  and  closed  with  the  short 
sword,  while  thtir  comrades  piled  in  upon  them.  Crash  after 
crash,  as  cohort  struck  cohort ;  and  so  the  battle  joined. 
•        **♦♦♦*#*♦ 

Why  was  the  battle  of  Pharsalus  more  to  the  world  than 
fifty  other  stricken  fields  where  armies  of  strength  equal  to 
those  engaged  there  joined  in  conflict  ?  Why  can  these  other 
battles  be  passed  over  as  dates  and  names  to  the  historian, 
while  he  assigns  to  this  a  position  beside  Marathon  and 
Arbela  and  Toura  and  the  Defeat  of  the  Armada  and  Waterloo 
and  Gettysburg  ?  What  w  ..s  at  stake  —  that  Caesar  or  Pom- 
peius  and  his  satellites  should  rule  the  world?  Infinitely 
more  —  the  struggle  was  for  the  very  existt-nce  of  civilization, 
to  determine  whether  or  not  the  fabric  of  ordered  society  was 
to  be  flung  back  into  chaos.  The  Roman  Republic  had  con* 
quered  the  civilized  world ;  it  had  thrown  down  kings ;  it  had 
destroyed  the  political  existence  of  nations.  What  but  feeble- 
ness, corruption,  decay,  anarchy,  disintegration,  disruption, 
recurring  barbarism,  had  the  oligarchs,  for  whom  Pompeiua 
was  fighting  his  battle,  to  put  in  the  place  of  what  the  Repub- 
lic had  destroyed  ?  Could  a  Senate  where  almost  every  man 
had  his  price,  where  almost  every  member  looked  on  the  prov- 
inces as  a  mere  feeding  ground  for  personal  enrichment  — 
oonld  such  a  body  govern  the  world  ?  Were  not  German  and 
Gaul  ready  to  pluck  this  unsound  organism  called  the  Repub- 
lic limb  from  limb,  and  where  was  the  reviving,  regenerating 
force  that  was  to  hold  them  back  with  an  iron  hand  until  a 
force  greater  than  that  of  the  sword  was  ready  to  carry  its 


426 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


evangel  unto  all  nations,  Jew,  Greek,  Roman,  barbarian, — 
bond  and  free  ?  These  were  the  questions  asked  and  answered 
on  that  ninth  day  of  August,  forty-nine  years  before  the  biith 
of  a  mightier  than  Pompeius  Magnus  or  Julius  Csesar.  And 
because  men  fought  and  agonized  and  died  on  those  plains  by 
Pharsalus,  the  edict  could  go  from  Rome  that  all  the  world 
should  be  taxed,  and  a  naturalized  Roman  citizen  could  scorn 
the  howls  of  the  provincial  mobs,  could  mock  at  Sanhedrins 
seeking  his  blood,  and  cry  :  "  Civis  Romanus  sum.  Coesarem 
appello  !  " 

How  long  did  the  battle  last  ?  Drusus  did  not  know.  No 
one  knew.  He  flew  at  the  heels  of  his  general's  charger,  for 
where  Csesar  went  there  the  fight  was  thickest.  He  saw  the 
Pompeian  heavy  infantry  standing  stolidly  in  their  ranks  to 
receive  the  charge — a  fatal  blunder,  that  lost  them  all  the  en- 
thusiasm aggression  engenders.  The  Caesarian  veterans  would 
halt  bei'ore  closing  in  battle,  draw  breath,  and  dash  over  the 
reiraining  interval  with  redoubled  vigour.  The  Pompeians 
received  them  maafully,  sending  back  javelin  for  javelin; 
then  the  short  swords  flashed  from  their  scabbards,  and  man 
pressed  against  man  —  staring  into  one  another's  face  —  seek- 
ing one  another's  blood ;  striking,  striking  with  one  thought, 
hope,  instinct  —  to  stride  across  his  e  lemy's  dead  body. 

The  Pompeian  reserves  ran  up  to  aid  their  comrades  in  the 
line.  The  odds  against  the  Caesarian  cohorts  were  tremendous. 
The  pressure  of  shield  against  shield  never  abated.  Woe  to 
the  man  who  lost  footing  and  fell;  his  life  was  trampled 
out  in  a  twinkling !  The  battle-cries  grew  fewer  and  fewer ; 
shouting  requires  breath ;  breath,  energy ;  and  every  scruple  of 
energy  was  needed  in  pushing  on  those  shields.  There  were 
few  pila  left  now.  The  short  swords  dashed  upon  the  armour, 
but  in  the  press  even  to  swing  a  blade  was  difficult.    More  and 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE    427 


more  intense  grew  the  strain;  Csesarians  gave  ground  here 
and  then  regained  it.  Pompeians  did  the  like  yonder.  The 
long  reach  of  the  line  swayed  to  and  fro,  rippling  like  a  dark 
ribbon  in  the  wind.  Now  and  then  a  combatant  would  receive 
a  mortal  wound,  and  go  down  out  of  sight  in  the  throng,  which 
closed  over  him  almost  ere  he  could  utter  one  sharp  cry. 

Caesar  was  everywhere.  His  voice  rang  like  a  clarion  down 
the  lines ;  he  knew,  as  it  were,  each  soldier  by  name  —  and 
when  a  stout  blow  was  to  be  struck,  or  a  stand  was  needed  to 
bear  up  against  the  weight  of  hostile  numbers,  Caesar's  praise 
or  admonition  to  stand  firm  was  as  a  fresh  cohort  flung  into 
the  scale.  Drusus  rode  with  him,  both  mounted,  hence  unable 
to  mingle  in  the  press,  but  exposed  to  the  showers  of  ai*rows 
and  sling-stones  which  the  Pompeian  auxiliaries  rained  upon 
them.  Caesar's  red  paludamentum  marked  him  out  a  conspicu- 
ous figure  for  the  aim  of  the  missiles,  but  he  bore  a  charmed 
life. 

Drusus  himself  did  what  he  could  to  steady  the  men.  The 
contest  in  the  line  of  battle  could  not  continue  long,  flesh  and 
blood  might  not  endure  the  strain. 

"Imperator,"  cried  Drusus,  riding  up  to  his  chief,  "'you  see 
that  this  can  last  no  longer.  Our  men  are  overmatched.  Shall 
I  order  up  the  t^ird  line?  The  centurion  Crastinus,  who  swore 
that  he  would  win  your  gratitude  living  or  dead,  is  slain  after 
performing  deeds  worthy  of  his  boast.  Many  others  have  gone 
down.     What  shall  I  do?  " 

Caesar  drew  rein,  and  cast  his  eyes  down  the  swaying  lines. 

"  I  dare  not  order  up  the  third  line  so  early, "  he  began ;  then, 
with  a  glance  to  the  extreme  right,  "  Ah,  Mehercle  !  we  are  at 
the  crisis  now!  Our  cavalry  have  given  way  before  the 
enemy's  horse.     They  are  outflanking  us ! " 

"The  six  cohorts! '   cried  Drusus. 


It  I 


428 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"The  sis  cohorts  — ride!  Make  them  stop  those  horse,  oi 
all  is  lost!     On  your  life,  go! " 

And  away  went  Drusus.  The  supreme  moment  of  his  life 
had  come.  The  whole  act  of  being,  he  felt,  he  knew,  had  been 
only  that  he  might  live  at  that  instant.  What  the  next  hour 
had  in  store  —  life,  death  —  he  cared  not  at  all.  The  Caesarian 
horse,  outnumbered  seven  to  one,  had  fought  valiantly,  but 
been  borne  back  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers.  With  not  a  man 
in  sight  to  oppose  them,  the  wliole  mass  of  the  splendid  Pom- 
peian  cavalry  was  sweeping  around  to  crush  the  unprotected 
flank  of  the  tenth  legion.  The  sight  of  the  on-rushing  squad- 
rons was  beyond  words  magnificent.  The  tossing  mass  of  their 
panoplies  was  a  sea  of  scarlet,  purple,  brass,  and  flashing  steel; 
the  roar  of  the  hoof -beats  of  seven  thousand  blooded  coursers 
swept  on  like  the  approaching  of  the  wind  leading  the  clouds 
in  whose  breast  are  thimder  and  lightning  unfettered.  Behind 
them  rose  the  dun  vapour  of  the  dust,  drifting  up  toward 
heaven,  —  the  whirling  vortex  of  the  storm.  It  was  indeed  the 
crisis. 

The  six  cohorts  were  standing,  resting  on  their  shields,  in 
the  rear  of  the  extreme  right  flank  of  the  third  line.  They 
were  in  an  oblique  formation.  The  most  distant  cohort  extended 
far  back,  and  far  beyond  the  Caesarian  line  of  battle.  The 
hearts  of  the  soldiers  were  in  the  deathly  press  ahead,  but  they 
were  veterans;  discipline  held  them  quiet,  albeit  restive  in 
soul. 

On  swept  the  roar  of  the  advancing  Pompeians.  What 
must  be  done  must  be  done  quickly.  Drusus  drove  the 
spurs  into  his  horse,  and  approached  the  cohorts  on  a  head- 
long gallop. 

"Forward!     I  will  lead  you  against  the  enemy! " 

No  need  of  second  command.    The  maniples  rushed  onward 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE    429 


as  though  the  men  were  runners  in  a  race,  not  soldiers  clothed 
in  armour.  Drusus  flew  down  the  ranks  and  swung  the  farthest 
cohorts  into  alignment  with  the  others.  There  was  not  a 
moment  to  lose. 

"Now,  men,  if  ye  be  indeed  soldiers  of  Caesar,  at  them! " 

Drusus  was  astounded  at  the  resonance  of  his  own  voice ;  a 
thousand  others  caught  up  the  shout. 

"  Ventis  vidriz!"  And  straight  into  the  teeth  pf  the  gallop- 
ing hosts  charged  the  thin  line  of  infantry. 

The  line  was  weak,  its  members  strong.  They  were  rural 
Italians,  uncorrupted  by  city  life,  hardy,  god-fearing  peasants 
and  sons  of  peasants,  worthy  descendants  of  the  men  who  died 
in  the  legions  at  Cannae,  or  triumphed  at  the  Metaurus. 
Steady  as  on  a  review  the  six  cohorts  bore  down  into  action. 
And  when  they  struck  the  great  mass  of  horsemen  they  thrust 
their  pila  into  the  riders'  eyes  and  prodded  the  steeds.  The 
foremost  cavalrymen  drew  rein;  the  horses  reared.  The 
squadrons  were  colliding  and  plunging.  In  an  eye's  twinkling 
their  momentum  had  been  checked. 

"Charge!  Charge!"  Drusus  sent  the  word  tossing  down 
along  the  cohorts,  and  the  legionaries  pressed  forward.  It 
was  done.  The  whole  splendid  array  of  horsemen  broke  in 
rout;  they  went^streaming  back  in  dijordered  squadrons  over 
the  plain,  each  trooper  striving  to  outride  his  fellow  in  the 
flight.  Pompeius  had  launched  his  most  deadly  bolt,  and  it 
had  failed. 

Now  was  Drusus's  chance.  No  further  order  had  been  given 
him;  to  pursue  cavalry  with  infantry  were  folly;  he  needed 
no  new  commands.  The  six  cohorts  followed  his  lead  like 
machinery.  The  crash  of  battle  dimmed  his  voice ;  the  sight 
of  his  example  led  the  legionaries  on.  They  fell  on  the  Pom- 
peian  archers  and  slingers  and  dispersed  them  like  smoke. 


430 


A  FEIEND  OF  C^SAE 


They  wheeled  about  as  on  a  pivot  and  struck  the  enemy's  left 
wing;  struck  the  Pompeian  fighting  line  from  the  rear,  and 
crushed  it  betwixt  the  upper  and  nether  millstone  of  themselves 
and  the  tenth  legion.  Drusus  drove  into  the  very  foremost  of 
the  fight;  it  was  no  longer  a  press,  it  was  flight,  pursuit, 
slaughter,  and  he  forced  his  horse  over  one  enemy  after  another 
—  transformed,  transfigured  as  he  was  into  a  demon  of  destruc- 
tion, while  the  delirium  of  battle  gained  upon  him. 

Drusus  saw  the  figure  of  a  horseman  clothed,  like  Caesar,  in 
a  red  general's  cloak  spurring  away  to  the  enemy's  camp. 
He  called  to  his  men  that  Pompeius  had  taken  panic  and  fled 
away;  that  the  battle  was  won.  He  saw  the  third  line  of  the 
CsBsarians  drive  through  the  Pompeian  centre  and  right  as  a 
plough  cuts  through  the  sandy  field,  and  then  spread  terror, 
panic,  rout  —  the  battle  became  a  massacre. 

So  the  CsBsarians  hunted  their  foes  over  the  plain  to  the 
camp.     And,  though  the  sun  on  high  rained  down  a  pitiless 
heat,  none  faltered  when  the  Imperator  bade  them  use  their 
favour  with  Fortune,  and  lose  not  a  moment  in  storming  the 
encampment.     They  assailed  the  ramparts.     The  Pompeian 
reserve  cohorts  stood  against  them  like  men;  the  Thracian  and 
other  auxiliary  light  troops  sent  down  clouds  of  missiles—  of 
what  avail?    There  are  times  when  mortal  might  can  pass  seas 
of  fire  and  mountains  of  steel;  and  this  was  one  of  those 
moments.    The  Pompeians  were  swept  from  the  ramparts  by 
a  pitiless  shower  of  javelins.     The  panic  still  was  upon  them ; 
standards  of  cohorts,  eagles  of  legions,  they  threw  them  all 
away.     They    fled  — fled    casting    behind    shields,   helmets, 
swords,  anything  that  hindered  their  running.     The  hills,  the 
mountain  tops,  were  their  only  safety.     Their  centurions  and 
tribunes  were  foremost  among  the  fugitives.     And  from  these 
mountain  crests  they  were  to  come  down  the  next  morning 


HOW  ULAMHALA'S  WORDS  CAME  TRUE    431 


and  surrender  themselves  prisoners  to  the  conquerors  —  peti- 
tioners for  their  lives. 

Not  all  were  thus  fated.  For  in  the  flight  from  the  camp 
Domitius  fell  down  from  fatigue,  and  Marcus  Antonius,  whose 
hand  knew  no  weariness,  neither  his  heart  remorse  or  mercy, 
slew  him  as  a  man  would  slay  a  snake.  And  so  perished  one 
of  the  evil  spirits  that  hounded  Pompeius  to  his  death,  the 
Roman  oligarchy  to  its  downfall. 

Drusus  sought  far  and  wide  for  Lentulus  and  Lucius  Aheno- 
barbus.  The  consular  had  fought  on  the  most  distant  wing,  and 
in  the  flight  he  and  his  mortal  enemy  did  not  meet.  Neither 
did  Drusus  come  upon  the  younger  son  of  the  slain  Domitius. 
Fortune  kept  the  two  asunder.  But  slaying  enough  for  one 
day  the  young  Livian  had  wrought.  He  rode  with  Caesar 
through  the  splendid  camp  just  captured.  The  flowers  had 
been  twined  over  the  arbours  under  which  the  victory  was  to 
be  celebrated;  the  plate  was  on  the  tables;  choice  viands  and 
wines  were  ready;  the  floors  of  the  tents  were  covered  with 
fresh  sods;  over  the  pavilion  of  Lentulus  Crus  was  a  great 
shade  of  ivy.  The  victors  rode  out  from  the  arbours  toward 
the  newly  taken  ramparts.  There  lay  the  dead,  heaps  upon 
heaps,  the  patrician  dress  proclaiming  the  proud  lineage  of  the 
fallen ;  Claudii,  Fabii,  iEmilii,  Furii,  Cornelii,  Sempronii,  and 
a  dozen  more  great  gentea  were  represented — scions  of  the 
most  magnificent  oligarchy  the  world  has  ever  seen.  And  this 
was  their  end!  Ctesar  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  and 
pressed  his  fingers  upon  his  eyes. 

"They  would  have  it  so,"  he  said,  in  quiet  sadness,  to  the 
little  knot  of  officers  around  him.  "  After  all  that  I  had  done 
for  my  country,  I,  Caius  Cfflsar,  would  have  been  condemned 
by  them  like  a  criminal,  if  I  had  not  appealed  to  my  army." 

And  30  ended  that  day  and  that  battle.    On  the  field  and  in 


i.  11 


% 


432 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


the  camp  lay  dead  two  hundred  Caesarians  and  fifteen  thousand 
Pompeians.  Twenty-four  thousand  prisoners  had  been  taken, 
one  hundred  and  eighty  standards,  nine  eagles.  As  for  the 
Magnus,  he  had  stripped  off  his  general's  cloak  and  was  riding 
with  might  and  main  for  the  seacoast,  accompanied  by  thirty 
horsemen. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


THB  END  OF  THB  MAGNUS 


The  months  had  come  and  gone  for  Cornelia  as  well  as  for 
Quintus  Diusus,  albeit  in  a  very  different  manner.  The  war 
was  raging  upon  land  and  sea.  The  Pompeian  fleet  controlled 
all  the  water  avenues;  the  Italian  peninsula  was  held  by  the 
Caesarians.  Cornelia  wrote  several  times  to  old  Mamercus  at 
Praeneste,  enclosing  a  letter  which  she  begged  him  to  forward 
to  her  lover  wherever  he  might  be.  But  no  answer  came. 
Once  she  learned  definitely  that  the  ship  had  been  captured. 
For  the  other  times  she  could  imagine  the  same  catastrophe. 
Still  she  had  her  comfort.  Rumours  of  battles,  of  sieges,  and 
arduous  campaigning  drifted  over  the  Mediterranean.  Now  it 
was  that  u  few  days  more  would  see  Caesar  an  outlaw  without 
a  man  around  him,  and  then  Cornelia  would  believe  none  of  it. 
Now  it  waa  that  Pompeius  was  in  sore  straits,  and  then  she 
was  all  credulity.  Yet  beside  these  tidings  there  were  othei 
stray  bits  of  news  very  dear  to  her  heart.  Caesar,  so  it  was 
said,  possessed  a  young  aide-do-camp  of  great  valour  and 
ability,  one  Quintus  Drusus,  and  the  Imperator  was  already 
entrusting  him  with  posts  of  danger  and  of  responsibility.  He 
had  behaved  gallantly  at  Ilerda;  he  had  won  more  laurels  at 
the  siege  of  Massilia.  At  Dyrrachium  he  had  gained  yet 
more  credit.    And  on  account  of  these  tidings,  it  may  easily 


434 


A  FEIEND  OF  CiESAB 


be  imagined  that  Cornelia  was  prepared  to  be  very  patient  and 
to  be  willing  to  take  the  trying  vicissitudes  of  her  own  life 
more  lightly. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  her  own  position  at  Alexandria  had 
begun  to  grow  complicated.  First  of  all,  Agias  had  made 
one  day  a  discovery  in  the  city  which  it  was  exceeding  well 
for  Artemisia  was  not  postponed  for  a  later  occasion.  Prati- 
nas  was  in  Alexandria.  The  young  Greek  had  not  been  recog- 
nized when,  as  chance  meetings  will  occur,  he  came  across  his 
one-time  antagonist  face  to  face  on  the  street.  He  had  no 
fears  for  himself.  But  Artemisia  was  no  longer  safe  in  the 
city.  Cleomenes  arranged  that  the  girl  should  be  sent  to  a 
villa,  owned  by  the  relatives  of  his  late  wife,  some  distance  up 
the  Nile.  Artemisia  would  thus  be  parted  from  Agias,  but 
she  would  be  quite  safe ;  and  to  secure  that,  any  sacrifice  of 
stolen  looks  and  pretty  coquetry  was  cheerfully  accepted. 

Soon  after  this  unpleasant  little  discovery,  a  far  more  seri- 
ous event  occurred.  Pothinus  the  eunuch,  Achillas,  the 
Egyptian  commander  of  the  army,  and  Theodotus,  a  "  rhetoric 
teacher,"  whose  real  business  was  to  spin,  not  words,  but  court 
intrigues,  had  plotted  together  to  place  the  young  King  Ptole- 
maeus  in  sole  power.  The  conspiracy  ran  its  course.  There 
was  a  rising  of  the  "Macedonian"^  guard  at  the  palace,  a 
gathering  of  citizens  in  the  squares  of  the  capital,  culminating 
in  bloody  riots  and  proclamations  declaring  the  king  vested 
with  the  only  supreme  power.  Hot  on  the  heels  of  this 
announcement  it  was  bruited  around  the  city  that  Cleopatra 
had  escaped  safely  to  Palestine,  where,  in  due  time,  she  would 
doubtless  be  collecting  an  army  at  the  courts  of  Hyrcanus,  the 


I  Macedonian  it  is  needless  to  say  was  a  mere  name.  The  GrsBco-Egyptian 
•oldiery  and  oitizen  body  of  Alexandria  probably  had  hardly  a  drop  of  Mace* 
(Ionian  blood  in  their  velBS. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MAGNUS 


435 


Jewish  princo,  and  other  Syrian  potentates,  to  return  and 
retake  the  crown. 

Alexandria  was  accustomed  to  such  dynastic  disruptions. 
The  rioting  over,  the  people  were  ready  to  go  back  to  the 
paper  and  linen  factories,  and  willing  to  call  Ptolemaeus  the 
" Son  of  Ra,"  or  "King/'  until  his  sister  should  defeat  him  in 
battle.  Cornelia  grieved  that  Cleopatra  should  thus  be  forced 
into  exile.  She  had  grown  more  and  more  intimate  with  the 
queen.  The  first  glamour  of  Cleopatra's  presence  had  worn 
away.  Cornelia  saw  her  as  a  woman  very  beautiful,  very 
wilful,  gifted  with  every  talent,  yet  utterly  lacking  that  moral 
stability  which  would  have  been  the  crown  of  a  perfect  human 
organism.  The  two  women  had  grown  more  and  more  in 
friendship  and  intimacy ;  and  when  Cornelia  studied  in  detail 
the  dark,  and  often  hideous,  coils  and  twistings  of  the  history 
of  the  Hellenistic  royal  families,  the  more  vividly  she  real- 
ized that  Cleopatra  was  the  heiress  of  generations  of  legalized 
license,*  of  cultured  sensuality,  of  veneered  cruelty,  and  sheer 
blood-thirstiness.  Therefore  Cornelia  had  pitied,  not  blamed, 
the  queen,  and,  now  that  misfortune  had  fallen  upon  her,  was 
distressed  for  the  plight  of  Cleopatra. 

That  Cornelia  had  been  an  intimate  of  the  queen  was  per- 
fectly well  known  in  Alexandria.  lu  fact,  Cleomenes  himself 
was  of  sufl&ciently  high  rank  to  make  any  guest  he  might  long 
entertain  more  or  less  of  a  public  personage.  Cornelia  was  a 
familiar  sight  to  the  crowds,  as  she  drove  daily  on  the  streets 
and  attended  the  theatre.  Cleomeues  began  to  entertain  sus- 
picions that  the  new  government  was  not  quite  pleased  to  leave 
such  a  friend  of  Cleopatra's  at  liberty ;  and  Agias  took  pains  to 
discover  that  Fratinas  was  deep  in  the  counsels  of  the  virtual 

^  Aa,  for  instance,  the  repeated  wedlock  of  brothers  and  sisters  among  ths 
Ptolemies. 


436 


A  FRIEND  OP  CMSAR 


regent  —  Pothinus.  But  Cornelia  scoffed  at  any  suggestions 
that  it  might  be  safer  to  leave  the  city  and  join  Artemisia  in 
the  retreat  up  the  Nile.  She  had  taken  no  part  whatsoever  in 
Egyptian  politics,  and  she  was  incapable  of  assisting  to  restore 
Cleopatra.  As  for  the  possible  influence  of  Fratinas  in  court, 
it  seemed  to  her  incredible  that  a  man  of  his  caliber  could 
work  her  any  injury,  save  by  the  dagger  and  poison  cup.  That 
an  ignoble  intriguer  of  his  type  could  influence  the  policy  of 
state  she  refused  to  believe. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Cornelia  had  only  herself  to  thank, 
when  the  blow,  such  as  it  was,  fell.  The  eunuch  prime  min- 
ister knew  how  to  cover  his  actions  with  a  velvet  glove.  One 
evening  a  splendidly  uniformed  division  of  Macedonian  guard, 
led  by  one  of  the  royal  somatophylakea,^  came  with  an  empty 
chariot  to  the  house  of  Cleomenes.  The  request  they  bore 
was  signed  with  the  royal  seal,  and  was  politeness  itself.  It 
overflowed  with  semi-Oriental  compliment  and  laudation;  but 
the  purport  was  clear.  On  account  of  the  great  danger  in  the 
city  to  foreigners  from  riots—  ran  the  gist  of  the  letter— and 
the  extremely  disturbed  condition  of  the  times,  the  king  was 
constrained  to  request  Cornelia  and  Fabia  to  take  up  their 
residence  in  the  palace,  where  they  could  receive  proper  pro- 
tection and  be  provided  for  in  a  princely  manner,  as  became 
their  rank. 

Cornelia  had  enough  wisdom  to  see  that  only  by  taking  the 
letter  for  the  intentions  written  on  its  face  could  she  submit 
to  the  implied  command  without  loss  of  dignity.  She  had 
much  diflBculty  in  persuading  Fabia  to  yield;  for  the  Vestal 
was  for  standing  on  her  Roman  prerogatives  and  giving  way 
to  nothing  except  sheer  force.  But  Cleomenes  added  his  word, 
that  only  harm  would  come  from  resistance;   and  the  two 

1  Commanden  of  tbe  body-gaud. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MAGNUS 


48r 


Roman  ladies  accompanied  the  escort  back  to  the  palace.  It 
was  not  pleasant  to  pass  into  the  power  of  a  creature  like 
Pothinus,  even  though  thn  smooth-fawd  eunuch  received  his 
unwilling  {rnests  with  Oriental  salaams  and  profuse  requests 
to  be  allowed  to  humour  the ir  least  desire  But  the  restraint, 
if  such  it  can  be  called,  could  hardly  tak<  i  less  objectionable 
form.  Monime  and  Berenice,  as  liwiies  whose  fatlxer  was 
known  as  a  merchaut  prince  of  colourles-:  i)oliticd.  were  allowed 
free  access  to  their  friends  at  the  {alxce.  Youn<.'  Ptolemaeus, 
who  was  a  dark-eyed  and,  at  bottom,  durk-heiu-tedyou-h,  com- 
pletely under  the  thumb  of  Pothin.ia,  cVfifcen  hint, elf,  after  a 
fashion,  to  be  agreeable  to  his  visitors,  nt  i:«  was  too  unfa- 
vourable a  contrast  to  his  gifted  sister  to  nin  much  grace  in 
Cornelia's  eyes.  Agias,  who  was  living  with  Clt-omenes,  nomi- 
nally for  the  purpose  of  learniuo'  the  latter's  business,  pre- 
paratoi}  to  becoming  a  partner  on  capital  to  come  from  his 
predatory  cousin,  as  a  matter  of  fa/'t  spent  a  gr^^at  part  of  his 
time  at  fhe  palace  also,  dancing  attendance  upon  liis  Roman 
friends.  Pratinas,  indeed,  was  on  hand,  not  really  to  distress 
them,  but  to  vex  by  the  mere  knowledge  of  his  presence.  Cor- 
nelia met  the  Greek  with  a  stony  hauglitiness  that  chilled  all 
his  professions  of  desire  to  serve  her  and  to  renew  the  acquaint- 
ance formed  at  Rome.  Agias  had  discovered  that  Pratinas 
had  advised  Pothinus  to  keep  his  hands  on  the  lad'-s,  espe- 
cially on  Cornelia,  because  whichever  side  of  the  R  an  fac- 
tious won,  there  were  those  who  would  reward  suitably  any 
who  Cvuid  deliver  her  over  to  them.  From  this  Cornelia  had  to 
infer  that  the  defeat  of  the  Caesarians  meant  her  own  enthral- 
ment  to  her  uncle  and  Lucius  Ahenolarour  Huch  a  contin- 
gency she  would  not  admit  as  possible.  She  was  simply 
rendered  far  more  anxious.  Pratinas  had  given  up  seeking 
Drusus's  life,  it  was  clear;   his  interest  in  the  matter  had 


438 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAB 


ended  the  very  instant  the  chance  to  levy  blackmail  on  Aheno* 
barbus  had  disappeared.  Pratinas,  in  fact,  Agias  learned  for 
her,  was  never  weary  ridiculing  the  Roman  oligarchs,  and  pro- 
fessing his  disgust  with  them;  so  Cornelia  no  longer  had 
immediate  cause  to  fear  him,  though  she  hated  him  none  the 
less. 

After  all,  Pratinas  thrust  himself  little  upon  her.  He  had 
his  own  life  to  live,  and  it  ran  far  apart  from  hers.  Perhaps 
it  was  as  well  for  Cornelia  that  she  was  forced  to  spend  the 
winter  and  ensuing  months  in  the  ample  purlieus  of  the  palace. 
If  living  were  but  the  gratification  of  sensuous  indolence,  if 
existence  were  but  luxurious  dozing  and  half-waking,  then  the 
palace  of  the  Ptolemies  were  indeed  an  Elysium,  with  its  soft- 
footed,  silent,  swift,  intelligent  Oriental  servants;  rooms  where 
the  eye  grew  weary  of  rare  sculpture  or  fresco;  books  drawn 
from  the  greatest  library  in  the  world  —  the  Museum  close 
at  hand ;  a  broad  view  of  the  blue  Mediterranean,  ever  chang- 
ing and  ever  the  same,  and  of  the  swarming  harbour  and  the 
bustling  city ;  and  gardens  upon  gardens  shut  off  from  the  out- 
side by  lofty  walls  —  some  great  enclosures  containing  besides 
forests  of  rare  trees  a  vast  menagerie  of  wild  beasts,  whose 
roarings  from  their  cages  made  one  think  the  groves  a  tropical 
jungle ;  some  gardens,  dainty,  secluded  spots  laid  out  in  Egyp- 
tian fashion,  under  the  shade  of  a  few  fine  old  sycamores,  with 
a  vineyard  and  a  stone  trellis-work  in  the  midst,  with  arbours 
and  little  parks  of  exotic  plants,  a  palm  or  two,  and  a  tank 
where  the  half-tame  water-fowl  would  plash  among  the  lotus 
and  papyrus  plants.  In  such  a  nook  as  this  Cornelia  would 
sit  and  read  all  the  day  long,  and  put  lotus  flowers  in  her 
hair,  look  down  into  the  water,  and.  Narcissus-like,  fall  in 
love  with  her  own  face,  and  tell  herself  that  Drusus  would  be 
delighted  that  she  had  not  grown  ugly  since  he  parted  with  her. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MAGNUS 


439 


So  passed  the  winter  and  the  sprinj^  and  early  summer 
months;  and,  however  hot  and  parched  migut  be  the  city  under 
the  burning  sun,  there  was  coolness  and  refreshment  in  the 
gardens  of  the  palace. 

With  it  all,  however,  Cornelia  began  to  wax  restive.  It  is 
no  light  thing  to  command  one's  self  to  remain  quiet  in  Syba- 
ritic ease.  More  and  more  she  began  to  wish  that  this  butterfly 
existence,  this  passive  basking  in  the  sun  of  indolent  luxury, 
would  come  to  an  end.  She  commenced  again  to  wish  that  she 
were  a  man,  with  the  tongue  of  an  orator,  the  sword  of  a 
soldier,  able  to  sway  senates  and  to  lead  legions.  Pothinus 
finally  discovered  that  he  was  having  some  difficulty  in  keep- 
ing his  cage-bird  contented.  The  eunuch  had  entertained 
great  expectations  of  being  able  to  win  credit  and  favour  with 
the  conquerors  among  the  Komans  by  delivering  over  Cornelia 
safe  and  sound  either  to  Lentulus  Crus  or  Quintus  Drusus. 
Now  he  began  to  fear  that  Pratinas  had  advised  him  ill;  that 
Cornelia  and  Fabia  were  incapable  of  intriguing  in  Cleopatra's 
favour,  and  by  his  "  protection  at  the  palace  "  he  was  only  earn- 
ing the  enmity  of  his  noble  guests.  But  it  was  too  late  to 
retrace  his  steps,  and  he  accordingly  plied  Cornelia  with  so 
many  additional  attentions,  presents,  and  obsequious  flatteries, 
that  she  grew  heartily  disgusted  and  repined  even  more  over 
her  prcoent  situation. 

Bad  news  came,  which  added  to  her  discomfort.  Csesar  had 
been  driven  from  his  lines  at  Dyrrachium.  He  had  lost  a 
great  many  men.  If  the  Pompeian  sources  of  information 
were  to  be  believed,  he  was  now  really  a  negligible  military 
taetor,  and  the  war  was  })ractically  over.  The  tidings  fell  on 
Cornelia's  soul  like  lead.  She  knew  perfectly  well  that  the 
defeat  of  the  Ctesarians  would  mean  the  death  of  Quintus 
Drusus.    Her  uncle  and  the  Domitii,  father  and  son,  would 


!i 


440 


A  FRIEND  OP  CiESAR 


be  all  powerful,  and  they  never  forgave  an  enmity.  As  for 
herself  —  but  she  did  not  think  much  thereon ;  if  Drusus  was 
slain  or  executed,  she  really  had  very  little  to  live  for,  and 
there  were  many  ways  of  getting  out  of  the  world.  For  the 
first  time  since  the  memorable  night  of  the  raid  on  Baiae,  she 
went  about  with  an  aching  heart.  Fabia,  too,  suffered,  but, 
older  and  wiser,  comforted  Cornelia  not  so  much  by  what  she 
migLt  say,  by  way  of  extending  hopes,  as  by  the  warm,  silent 
contact  of  her  pure,  noble  nature.  Monime  and  Berenice  were 
grieved  that  their  friends  were  so  sad,  and  used  a  thousand 
gentle  arts  to  comfort  them.  Cornelia  bore  up  more  bravely 
because  of  the  sympathy  —  she  did  not  have  to  endure  her 
burden  alone,  as  at  Rome  and  Baise;  but,  nevertheless,  for  her 
the  days  crept  slowly. 

And  then  out  of  the  gloom  came  the  dazzling  brightness.  A 
Rhodian  merchantman  came  speeding  into  the  haven  with 
news.  "Is  Caesar  taken?"  cried  the  inquisitive  crowd  on  tlie 
quay,  as  the  vessel  swung  up  to  her  mooring.  "  Is  Pompeius 
not  already  here?"  came  back  from  the  deck.  And  in  a 
twinkling  it  was  all  over  the  city :  in  the  Serapeium,  in  the 
Museum,  under  the  colonnades,  in  the  factories,  in  the  palace. 
"Pompnius's  army  has  been  destroyed.  The  Magnus  barely 
escaped  with  his  life.  Lucius  Domitius  is  slain.  Caesar  is 
master  of  tJie  world ! " 

Never  did  the  notes  of  the  great  water-organ  of  the  palace 
sound  so  sweet  in  any  ears  as  these  words  in  those  of  the  Roman 
ladies.  They  bore  with  complacency  a  piece  of  petty  tyranny 
on  the  part  ot  Pothinus,  which  at  another  time  they  would 
have  found  galling  indeed.  Report  had  it  that  Cleopatra  had 
gathered  an  army  in  Syria,  and  the  eunuch,  with  his  royal 
puppet,  was  going  forth  to  the  frontier  town  of  Pelusium,  to 
head  the  forces  that  should  resist  the  invasion.    Cornelia  and 


THE  END  OF  THE  MA.GNUS 


441 


Fabia  were  informed  that  they  would  accompany  the  royal 
par*v  on  its  progress  to  the  frontier.  Pothinus  clearly  was 
beginning  to  fear  the  results  of  his  "  honourable  entertainment^ " 
and  did  not  care  to  have  his  guests  out  of  his  sight.  It  was 
vexatious  to  oe  thus  at  his  mercy;  but  Cornelia  was  too  joyous 
in  soul,  at  that  time,  to  bear  the  indignity  heavily.  They 
had  to  part  with  Monime  and  Berenice,  but  Agias  went  with 
them;  and  Cornelia  sent  off  another  letter  to  Italy,  in  renewed 
liope  that  the  seas  would  be  clear  and  it  would  find  its  way 
safely  to  Drusus. 

Very  luxurious  was  the  progress  of  the  royal  party  to  Pelu- 
sium.  The  king,  his  escort,  and  his  unwilling  guests  travelled 
slowly  by  water,  in  magnificent  river  barges  that  were  fitted 
with  every  requisite  or  ornament  that  mind  of  man  might  ask 
or  think.  They  crossed  the  Lake  Mareotis,  glided  along  one 
of  the  minor  outlets  of  the  delta  until  they  reached  the  Bolbi- 
tinic  branch  of  the  Nile,  then,  by  canals  and  natural  water- 
courses worked  their  way  across  to  Bubastis,  and  thence 
straight  down  the  Pelusiac  Nile  to  Pelusiura.  And  thus  it 
was  Cornelia  caught  glimpses  of  that  strange,  un-Hellenized 
country  that  stretched  away  to  the  southward,  tens  and  hun- 
dreds of  miles,  to  Memphis  and  its  pyramids,  and  Thebes  and 
its  temples  —  ancient,  weird,  wonderful;  a  civilization  whereof 
everything  was  older  than  human  thought  might  trace;  a 
civilization  that  was  almost  like  the  stars,  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever.  Almost  would  Cornelia  have  been  glad  if 
the  prows  of  the  barges  had  been  turned  up  the  river,  and  she 
been  enabled  to  behold  with  her  own  eyes  the  mighty  piles 
of  Cheops,  Chephren,  Mycerinus,  Sesostris,  Rhampsinitus, 
and  a  score  of  other  Pharaohs  whose  deeils  are  recorded  in 
stone  imperishable.  But  the  barges  glided  again  northward, 
and  Cornelia  only  occasionally  caught  some  glimpse  of  a  mas- 


M 


te 


443 


A  FBIEND  OF  CiESAR 


sive  temple,  under  whose  huge  propylons  the  priests  had 
chanted  their  litanies  to  Pakht  or  Ftah  for  two  thousand  years, 
or  passed  some  boat  gliding  with  its  mourners  to  the  necropo- 
lis, there  to  leave  the  mummy  that  was  to  await  the  judgment 
of  Osiris.  And  down  the  long  valley  swept  the  hot  winds 
from  the  realm  of  the  Pygmies,  and  from  those  strange  lakes 
and  mountains  whence  issued  the  boundless  river,  which  was 
the  life-giver  and  mother  of  all  the  fertile  country  of  Egypt. 

Thus  with  a  glimpse,  all  too  short,  of  the  "Black  Land,'" 
as  its  native  denizens  called  it,  the  royal  party  reached  the 
half-Hellenized  town  of  Pelusium,  where  the  army  was  in  wait- 
ing and  a  most  splendid  camp  was  ready  for  Ptolemaeus  and 
his  train.  Cleopatra  had  not  yet  advanced.  The  journey  was 
over,  and  the  novelty  of  the  luxurious  quarters  provided  in  the 
frontier  fortress  soon  died  away.  Cornelia  could  only  possess 
her  soul  in  patience,  and  wonder  how  long  it  would  be  before 
a  letter  could  reach  Italy,  and  the  answer  return.  Where  was 
Drusus?  Had  aught  befallen  him  in  the  great  battle?  Did  lie 
think  of  her?  And  so,  hour  by  hour,  she  repeated  her  questions 
—  and  waited. 


II 

Cleopatra's  forces  had  not  reached  proportions  sufficient  for 
her  to  risk  an  engagement,  when  a  little  squadron  appeared 
before  Pelusium  bearing  no  less  a  person  than  Pompeius  him- 
self, who  sent  ashore  to  demand,  on  the  strength  of  former 
services  to  the  late  King  Ptolemaeus  Auletes,  a  safe  asylum, 
and  assistance  to  make  fresh  head  against  the  Csesarians. 
There  was  a  hurried  convening  of  the  council  of  Pothinus  —  a 
select  company  of  eunuchs,  amateur  generals,  intriguing  rhet- 
oricians.   The  conference   was  long ;    access  to  its  debates 

^  "  Black  "  becauM  of  the  black  fertile  mud  deposited  by  the  iauudation. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MAGNUS 


448 


closely  guarded.  The  issue  could  not  be  evaded;  on  the 
decision  depended  the  regstablishment  of  the  Fompeians  in  a 
new  and  firm  stronghold,  or  their  abandonment  to  further 
wanderings  over  the  ocean.  All  Pelusium  realized  what  was 
at  stake,  and  the  excitement  ran  high. 

Cornelia  beyond  others  was  agitated  by  the  report  of  the 
arrival  of  the  Magnus.  Humour  had  it  that  Lucius  Lentulus 
was  close  behind  him.  If  the  council  of  Pothinus  voted  to 
receive  the  fugitives,  her  own  position  would  be  unhappy 
indeed.  For  a  time  at  least  she  would  fall  into  the  power  of 
her  uncle  and  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus.  She  was  fully  deter- 
mined, if  it  was  decided  to  harbour  the  Pompeians,  to  try 
to  escape  from  the  luxurious  semi-captivity  in  which  she  was 
restrained.  She  could  escape  across  the  frontier  to  the  camp 
of  Cleopatra,  where  she  knew  a  friendly  welcome  was  in 
waiting.  Agias,  ever  resourceful,  ever  anxious  to  anticipate 
the  slightest  wish  on  the  part  of  the  Boman  ladies,  actually 
began  to  bethink  himself  of  the  ways  and  means  for  a  flight. 
When  finally  it  was  announced  in  the  camp  and  city  that 
Pompeius  was  to  be  received  as  a  guest  of  the  king,  Cornelia 
was  on  the  point  of  demanding  of  Agias  immediate  action 
toward  escape. 

"  In  a  few  days,"  were  her  words,  "  my  uncle  will  be  here ; 
and  I  am  undone,  if  not  you  also.  There  is  not  an  hour  to 
lose." 

But  Agias  reasoned  otherwise.  If  Pothinus  and  Achillas' 
had  really  consented  to  receive  the  Magnus,  flight  was  indeed 
necessary.  Agias,  however,  had  grounds,  he  thought,  for  hesi- 
tancy. He  knew  that  Achillas,  the  head  of  the  army,  bitterly 
opposed  the  idea  of  letting  Pompeius  land ;  he  knew,  what  was 
almost  as  much  to  the  point,  that  Pratinas  did  not  care  to 
renew  certain  acquaintanceships  contracted  at  Bome.    Tbere< 


•    I 


i   \ 


444 


A  FRIEND  OF  C-fflSAB 


fore  the  young  Hellene  calmed  Cornelia's  fears,  and  waited  as 
best  he  might. 

The  council  had  convened  early  in  the  day ;  the  herald  went 
through  the  squares  of  Pelusium  announcing  that  Ptolemseus, 
"  Son  of  Ea,"  would  receive  as  his  guest  the  Boman  suppliant. 
The  shore  fronting  the  anchorage  was  covered  with  the  files  of 
the  royal  army  in  full  array.  Several  Egyptian  men-of-war 
had  been  drawn  down  into  the  water  and  their  crews  were 
hastening  on  board.  Out  in  the  haven  rode  the  little  fleet  of 
the  Pompeians.  Agias  had  heard  the  proclamation,  and  hurried 
down  to  the  mole  to  bear  the  earliest  definite  information  to 
his  mistress.  Presently,  out  of  the  throng  of  officers  and 
court  magnates  on  the  quay,  stepped  Achillas  in  a  splendid 
panoply  of  gilded  armour,  with  a  purple  chiton  flowing  down 
from  beneath.  Beside  him,  with  the  firm  swinging  step  of  the 
Roman  legionary,  strode  two  other  officers  in  magnificent 
armour,  whom  Agias  at  once  recognized  as  Lucius  Septimius,  a 
Roman  tribune  now  in  Egyptian  service,  and  a  certain  Salvius, 
who  had  once  been  a  centurion  of  the  Republic.  The  three 
advanced  on  to  the  quay  and  stood  for  a  moment  at  a  loss. 
Agias,  who  was  quite  near,  could  hear  their  conversation. 

"  The  yacht  is  not  ready  for  us." 

"  We  cannot  delay  a  moment." 

There  was  a  large  open  boat  moored  to  the  quay,  a  fisher 
man's  craft.  In  a  moment  a  few  subalterns  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  it  and  there  was  a  call  for  rowers.  Agias,  who,  like  all 
his  race,  never  declined  a  chance  "  to  see  or  hear  some  new 
thing,"  took  his  seat  on  one  of  the  benches,  and  soon  the  craft 
shot  away  from  the  mole  with  the  three  officers  in  its  stern. 

It  was  a  short  pull  to  the  Pompeian  ships ;  Agias,  as  he 
glanced  over  his  shoulder  thought  he  could  see  a  motion  on 
board  the  vessels  as  if  to  sheer  away  from  the  boat ;  but  in  a 


THE  END  OF  THE  MAGNUS 


445 


moment  the  little  craft  was  alongside,  under  the  lee  of  the 
flagship. 

«  Where  is  Pompeius  Magnus  ?  "  cried  Achillas,  rising  from 
his  seat ;  "  we  are  sent  to  carry  him  to  the  king." 

A  martial,  commanding  figure  was  seen  peering  over  the 
side,  —  a  figure  that  every  inhabitant  of  Rome  knew  right  well. 

"  I  am  he ;  but  why  do  you  come  thus  meanly  with  only  a 
fisher's  boat  ?  Is  this  honourable,  is  this  worthy  of  a  great 
king's  guest  ?  " 

"Assuredly,  kyrios,"  began  Achillas,  "we  are  forced  to 
come  in  this  small  craft,  because  the  water  is  too  shallow  for 
larger  ships  to  approach  the  shore." 

Agias  knew  that  this  was  a  lie ;  he  was  very  certain  that  he 
was  about  to  be  witness  to  a  deed  of  the  darkest  treachery. 
A  vague  feeling  of  shrinking  and  horror  froze  his  limbs,  and 
made  his  tongue  swell  in  his  mouth.  Yet  he  was  perfectly 
jiowerless  to  warn;  a  sign  or  a  word  would  have  meant  his 
instant  death. 

"  Salve,  Imperator ! "  shouted  Septimius  in  Latin,  rising  in 
turn.  "Don't  you  remember  the  campaign  I  had  with  you 
against  the  pirates?" 

The  fugitive  general's  care-worn  face  lighted  up  at  the 
recognition  of  an  old  officer. 

"Eu!"  he  answered,  "I  shall  not  want  for  good  friends,  I 
see !  How  ;,'lad  I  shall  be  to  grasp  your  hands !  But  is  not 
this  a  very  small  boat  ?  I  see  men  going  on  board  the  galleys 
by  the  shore." 

"You  shall  bo  satisfied  in  a  moment,  kyrios,"  repeated 
Achillas,  with  suave  assurance,  "  that  the  quicksands  by  the 
mole  are  very  dangerous  to  large  vessels.  Will  you  do  us  the 
honour  to  come  aboard  ?  " 

Agias  felt  as  though  he  must  howl,  scream,  spring  into  the 


f'; 
I    I 

li   • 


u^ 


(i* 


416 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


sea  —  do  anything  to  break  the  horrible  suspense  that 
oppressed  him. 

A  woman  was  taking  leave  of  Pompeius  on  the  deck,  a  tall, 
stately,  patrician  lady,  with  a  sweet,  trouble-worn  face ;  Agias 
knew  that  she  was  Cornelia  Scipionis.  She  was  adjuring 
her  husband  not  to  go  ashore,  and  he  was  replying  that  it  was 
impossible  to  refuse ;  that  if  the  Egyptians  meant  evil,  they 
could  easily  master  all  the  fugitives  with  their  armament. 
Several  of  the  Magnus's  servants  came  down  into  the  boat — 
a  couple  of  trusted  centurions,  a  valued  freedman  called  Philip, 
a  slave  named  Scythes.  Finally  Pompeius  tore  himself  from 
his  wife's  arms. 

«  Do  not  grieve,  all  will  be  well !  "  were  his  words,  while  the 
boat's  crew  put  out  their  hands  to  receive  him ;  and  he  added, 
"We  must  make  the  best  choice  of  evils.  I  am  no  longer  my 
own  master.    Remember  Sophocles's  iambics, 

"  ♦  He  that  once  enters  at  a  tyrant's  door 

Becomes  a  slave,  though  he  were  free  before.' " 

The  general  seated  himself  on  the  stern  seat  between  the 
Egyptian  oflficera.  Agias  bent  to  his  oar  in  sheer  relief  at 
finding  some  way  in  which  to  vent  his  feelings;  and  tugged  at 
the  heavy  paddle  until  its  tough  blade  bent  almost  to  crackiag. 
The  sill  <»e  -m  *^he  part  of  !u  officers  was  ominous.  Not  a 
word,  not  ;t  uint  of  recognmon,  came  from  Achillas  or  his 
Italian  assoiiatt-s,  from  the  instant  that  Pompeius  set  foot  in 
the  boat.  The  stillness  became  awkward.  The  Magnus, 
flusheil  and  embarrassed,  turned  to  Septiraius.  "I  was  not 
luistaKen  in  understanding  that  you  were  my  fellow-soldier  in 
years  past  ?  "  His  answer  was  a  surly  nod.  Pompeius,  how- 
ever, reined  his  rising  feelings,  and  took  up  and  began  to  re 
read  some  tablets  on  which  he  had  written  an  address  in  Greek, 


THE  END  OF  THE  MAGNUS 


447 


to  be  delivered  before  the  king,  Agias  rowed  on  with  the 
energy  of  helpless  desperation.  They  wore  very  close  to  the 
quay.  A  company  of  the  royal  body-guard  in  gala  armour 
stood  as  if  awaiting  the  distinguished  visitor.  For  a  moment 
the  young  Hellene  believed  that  Achillas  was  sincere  in  his 
errand. 

The  boat  drew  up  to  the  landing ;  one  or  two  of  the  rowers 
sprang  to  the  dock  and  made  her  fast.  Agias  was  unshipping 
his  oar.  His  thought  was  that  he  must  now  contrive  the  escape 
of  Cornelia.  Pompeius  half  rose  from  his  seat ;  the  boat  was 
pitching  in  the  choppy  harbour  swell;  the  general  steadied 
himself  by  grasping  the  hands  of  Philip  the  freedman.  Sud- 
denly, like  the  swoop  of  a  hawk  on  its  prey,  Agias  saw  tho 
right  hand  of  Septimius  tear  his  short  sword  from  its  sheath. 
A  scream  broke  from  the  Hellene's  lips;  before  the  Magnus 
could  turn  his  head,  the  blow  was  struck.  Pompeius  received 
the  blade  full  in  the  back,  and  staggered,  while  Salvius  and 
Achillas  likewise  drew  and  thrust  at  him.  Agias  gazed  on, 
paralyzed  with  liorror.  The  general  seized  his  red  paluda- 
mentum,  threw  it  over  his  face,  groaned  once,  and  fell.  Even 
as  he  did  so  Septimius  struck  him  across  the  neck,  decapitat- 
ing the  corpse.  The  brutal  boatmen  tore  the  blood-soaked 
clothes  off  of  the  body,  and  flung  it  ovei board,  to  drift  ashore 
with  the  current.  And  so  it  ended  with  Pompeius  Magnus, 
Imperator,  the  Fortunate,  the  favourite  general  of  Sulla,  the 
chieftain  of  "  godlike  and  incredible  virtue,"  the  conqueror  of 
the  kingdoms  of  the  East,  thrice  cousul,  thrice  triuniphator, 
joint  ruler  with  Caesar  of  the  civilized  world ! 

Apias  hastened  back  to  Cornelia  to  tell  her  that  the  danger 
was  past,  that  there  was  no  need  of  a  flight  to  Cleopatra ;  but 
lie  was  sick  at  heart  when  he  thought  of  the  treachery  in  which 
he  had  shared,  albeit  so  unwillingly. 


i! 


If 
i: 


.ii 


.t:' 


1^', 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


Cornelia  knew  not  whether  to  be  merry  or  to  weep  when 
the  report  of  the  fate  of  Pompeius  reached  her.  That  she 
would  be  delivered  up  to  her  uncle  was  no  longer  to  be 
dreaded ;  but  into  the  hands  of  what  manner  of  men  had  she 
herself  fallen  ?  Her  own  life  and  that  of  Fabia,  she  realized, 
would  be  snuffed  out  in  a  twinkling,  by  Pothinus  and  his  con- 
federates, the  instant  they  saw  in  such  a  deed  the  least  advan- 
tage. The  splendid  life  of  the  court  at  the  garrison  city  went 
on;  there  was  an  unending  round  of  f8tes,  contests  in  the 
gymnasium  and  stadium ;  chariot  races ;  contests  of  poets  and 
actors  for  prizes  in  dramatic  art  To  the  outward  eye  nothing 
could  be  more  decorous  and  magnificent  than  the  pleasures  of 
the  Egyptian  king.  And  so  some  days  passed  while  Cornelia 
crushed  her  fears,  and  waited  for  the  news  that  she  was  sure 
would  come  — that  Caesar  was  pressing  on  the  tracks  of  his 
rival. 

Late  one  afternoon,  as  the  king  and  his  suite  were  just 
•  dturned  from  a  visit  by  boat  up  the  river  to  inspect  a  temple 
under  restoration  at  Sethro6,  Agias  sought  the  private  apart- 
ment of  his  patroness.  His  face  was  extremely  grave,  and 
Cornelia  at  once  realized  that  he  brought  serious  new«. 

"Domina,"  he  said,  speaking  in  Latin  to  evade  the  ciriosity 

448 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


449 


of  the  maids  present,  "  when  you  are  at  leisure,  I  have  a  curi- 
0U8  story  to  tell  you." 

Cornelia  presently  found  pretexts  to  get  rid  of  all  her 
women.  Agias  reconnoitred,  made  certain  that  there  wu 
no  eavesdropper,  and  began  afresh. 

*•  What  I  have  to  say  is  so  different  from  that  which  we 
feared  a  few  days  since,  that  I  scarce  know  how  you  will 
receive  it.  I  have  just  learned  that  your  uncle  Lucius  Len- 
tulus  and  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  made  a  landing  on  the  coast 
the  day  after  Pompeius  was  murdered;  they  have  been 
quietly  arrested  and  the  matter  hushed  up.  I  believe  that 
Pothinus  intends  to  execute  them  without  your  knowledge. 
Only  by  a  friendship  with  some  of  the  officers  of  the  guard 
did  I  get  at  this." 

Cornelia's  lips  twitched ;  her  hands  pressed  on  her  cheeks 
till  the  pale  skin  flushed  red.  In  her  heart  a  hundred  conflict- 
ing emotions  held  sway.  She  said  nothing  for  a  long  time, 
and  then  it  was  only  to  ask  where  the  prisoners  were  confined. 

"They  are  in  the  dungeon  of  the  fortress,"  said  Agias. 
"  That  is  all  that  I  can  discover." 

"  I  must  see  them  at  once,"  declared  the  lady. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  Pothinus  will  take  this,"  replied  the 
young  freedman;  "the  discovery  of  his  secret  will  be  rightly 
attributed  to  me,  and  your  ladyship  would  not  care  to  imperil 
my  life  imless  something  very  great  is  to  be  gained  thereby." 

"  I  shall  miss  you  very  much,"  said  Cornelia,  soberly.  «  But 
though  Lucius  Lentulus  has  done  me  grievous  ill,  he  is  my 
uncle.  You  must  leave  Pelusium  this  very  night,  and  keep 
out  of  danger  until  Pothinus's  vexation  can  abate.  In  the 
morning  I  shall  demand  to  see  the  prisoners  and  to  learn  the 
eunuch's  intentions  touching  them." 

Agias  accordingly  fared  away,  much  to  Cornelia's  regrel^ 


*i 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


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450 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


',-::■{■ 


but  not  quite  so  much  to  his  own,  because  his  enforced  jour- 
neying -would  take  him  to  the  Nile  villa,  where  was  the  pretty 
Artemisia.  Early  on  the  following  day  Cornelia  boldly  went 
to  Pothinus,  and,  without  any  explanations,  demanded  to  se 
her  uncle.  The  regent,  who  had  tried  to  keep  the  matter 
profoundly  secret,  first  was  irate,  then  equivocated,  and  tried 
to  deny  that  he  had  any  Roman  prisoners ;  tiien,  driven  to 
bay  by  Cornelia's  persistency  and  quiet  intiexibility  before 
his  denials  and  protests,  gave  her  permission  to  be  taken  to 
the  prison  and  see  the  captives. 

To  pass  from  the  palace  of  Pelusium  to  the  fortress-prison 
was  to  pass,  by  a  few  steps,  from  the  Oriental  life,  in  all  its 
sensuous  splendour,  to  Orientalism  in  its  most  degraded  sav- 
agery. The  prison  was  a  half-underground  kennel  of  stone 
and  brick,  on  which  the  parching  sun  beat  pitilessly,  and 
made  the  galleries  and  cells  like  so  many  furnaces  in 
heat.  The  fetid  odour  of  human  Voings  confined  in  the  most 
limited  space  in  which  life  can  be  maintained ;  the  rattle  of 
fetters;  the  grating  of  ponderous  doors  on  slow-turning  pivots; 
the  coarse  oaths  and  brutish  aspect  of  both  jailers  and  pris- 
oners;  the  indescribable  squalor,  filth,  misery,  —  these  may 
not  be  enlarged  upon.  The  attendants  led  Cornelia  to  the 
cell,  hardly  better  than  the  rest,  wherein  Lentulus  and  Aheno- 
barbus  were  confined. 

But  another  had  been  before  Cornelia  to  visit  the  unfortu- 
nates. As  the  lady  drew  toward  the  open  door  she  saw  the 
graceful,  easy  form  of  Pratinas  on  the  threshold,  one  hand  care- 
lessly thrust  in  thp  folds  of  his  himation,  the  other  gesturing 
animatedly,  while  he  leaned  against  the  stone  casing. 

Lucius  Lentulus,  his  purple-lined  tunic  dirty  and  torn,  his 
hair  disordered,  his  face  knitted  into  a  bitter  frown,  crouched 
on  a  stool  in  the  little  low-ceiled  room,  confronting  the  Hel* 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


451 


lene.  Cowering  on  a  mass  of  filthy  straw,  his  head  bowed,  his 
body  quaking  in  a  paroxysm  of  fear,  was  another  whose  name 
Cornelia  knew  full  well. 

Pratinas  was  evidently  just  concluding  a  series  of  remarks. 

"And  so,  my  friends,  amici,  as  we  say  at  Rome,"  he  was 
jauntily  vapouring,  "  I  regret  indeed  that  the  atomic  theory, 
—  which  my  good  Ahenobarbus,  I  am  sure,  holds  in  common 
with  myself,  —  can  leave  us  no  iiope  of  meeting  in  a  future 
world,  where  I  can  expect  to  win  any  more  of  his  good  ses- 
terces with  loaded  dice.  But  let  him  console  himself !  He  will 
shortly  cease  from  any  pangs  of  consciousness  that  our  good 
friend  Quintns  Drusus  will,  in  all  probability,  enjoy  the  fortune 
that  he  has  inherited  from  his  father,  and  marry  the  lady  for 
whose  hand  the  very  noble  Ahenobarbus  for  some  time  dis- 
puted. Therefore  let  me  wish  you  both  a  safe  voyage  to  the 
kingdom  of  Hades ;  and  if  you  need  money  for  the  ferryman, 
accept  now,  as  always,  the  use  of  my  poor  credit." 

"May  all  the  infernal  gods  requite  you!"  broke  forth 
Lentulus,  half  rising,  and  uplifting  his  fettered  hands  to  call 
down  a  solemn  curse. 

"  It  has  been  often  observed  by  philosophers,"  said  Pratinas, 
with  a  smile,  "  that  even  among  the  most  sceptical,  in  times 
of  great  extremity,  there  exists  a  certain  belief  in  the  exist- 
ence of  gods.  Your  excellency  sees  how  the  observation  is 
confirmed." 

"  The  gods  blast  you  ! "  howled  Lentulus,  in  impotent  fury. 
Before  further  words  could  pass,  Cornelia  put  Pratinas  aside, 
and  entered  the  cell. 

"  Your  presence,  sir,"  she  said  haughtily,  to  the  Hellene,  "  is 
needed  no  longer."     And  she  pointed  down  the  gallery. 

Pratinas  flushed,  hesitated  as  if  for  once  at  a  loss,  and 
nimbly  vanished.     Lentulus  sat  m  speechless  astonishmeut. 


-'■I 

•!if 


452 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"Uncle,"  continued  Cornelia,  "what  may  I  do  for  you?  1 
did  not  know  till  last  evening  that  you  were  here." 

But  ere  the  other  could  reply  the  figure  in  the  corner  had 
sprung  up,  and  flung  itself  at  the  lady's  feet. 

"  Save  me !  save  me  !  By  all  that  you  hold  dear,  save  my 
life  !  I  have  loved  you.  I  thought  once  that  you  loved  me. 
Plead  for  me!  Pray  for  me!  Anything  that  I  may  but 
live ! " 

•'  Vak,  wretch !  "  cried  the  consular ;  and  he  spurned  Aheno- 
barbus  with  his  foot.  "It  is  indeed  well  that  you  have  not 
married  into  family  of  mine  !  If  you  can  do  naught  else,  you 
can  at  least  die  with  dignity  as  becomes  a  Roman  patrician  — 
and  not  beg  intercession  from  this  woman  who  has  cut  herself 
off  from  all  her  kin  by  disobedience." 

"Uncle,"  cried  Cornelia  in  distress,  "must  we  be  foes  to 
the  end  ?    Must  our  last  words  be  of  bitterness  ?  " 

"  Girl,"  thundered  the  unbending  Lentulus,  "  when  a  Roman 
maiden  disobeys,  there  is  no  expiation.  You  are  no  niece  of 
mine.  I  care  not  how  you  came  here.  I  accept  nothing  at 
your  hands.  I  will  not  hear  your  story.  If  I  must  die,  it  is  to 
die  cursing  your  name.   Go  !  I  have  no  more  words  for  you !  " 

But  Ahenobarbus  caught  the  skirt  of  Cornelia's  robe,  and 
pleaded  and  moaned.  "  Let  them  imprison  him  in  the  lowest 
dungeons,  load  him  with  the  heaviest  fetters  ;  place  upon  him 
the  most  toilsome  labour  —  only  let  him  still  see  the  light  and 
breathe  the  air !  " 

"  Uncle,"  said  Cornelia,  "  I  will  plead  for  you  despite  your 
wrath  —  though  little  may  my  effort  avail.  You  are  my 
father's  brother,  and  neither  act  of  yours  nor  of  mine  cai 
make  you  otherwise.  But  as  for  you,  Lucius  Ahenobai'bus," — 
and  her  words  came  hot  and  thick,  as  she  hissed  out  her  con- 
tempt,—  "though  I  beg  for  your  life,  know  this,  that  if  I 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


453 


despised  you  less  I  would  not  so  do.  I  despise  you  too  much 
to  hate ;  and  if  I  ask  to  have  you  live,  it  is  because  I  know  the 
pains  of  a  base  and  ignoble  life  are  a  myriad  fold  more  than 
tliose  of  a  swift  and  honourable  death.  Were  I  your  judge  — 
I  would  doom  you ;  doom  you  to  live  and  know  the  sting  of 
your  ignominy ! " 

She  left  them ;  and  hatred  and  pity,  triumph  and  anguish, 
mingled  within  her.  She  went  to  the  young  King  Ptolemaeus 
and  besought  him  to  spare  the  prisoners ;  the  lad  professed 
his  inability  to  take  a  step  without  the  initiative  of  Pothinus. 
She  went  to  Pothinus ;  the  eunuch  listened  to  her  courteously, 
then  as  courteously  told  her  that  grave  reasons  of  state  made 
it  impossible  to  comply  with  the  request— much,  as  he  blandly 
added,  it  would  delight  him  personally  to  gratify  her.  Cor- 
nelia copld  do  no  more.  Pratinas  she  would  not  appeal  to, 
thouv'-  hs  aaJ  great  influence  with  Pothinus.  She  went  back 
to  her  rooms  to  spend  the  day  with  Fabia,  very  heavy  of  heart. 
The  world,  as  a  whole,  she  beheld  as  a  thing  very  evil ;  treach- 
ery, guile,  wrath,  hatred,  were  everywhere.  The  sight  of 
Ahenobarbus  had  filled  her  with  loathsome  memories  of  past 
days.  The  sunlight  fell  in  bright  warm  panels  over  the  rich 
nigs  on  the  floor  of  her  room.  The  sea-breeze  sweeping  in 
from  the  north  blew  fresh  and  sweet;  out  against  the  azure 
light,  into  which  she  could  gaze,  a  swarm  of  swallows  was  in 
silhouette— black  dots  crawling  along  across  the  dome  of  light. 
Out  in  one  of  the  public  squares  of  the  city  great  crowds  of 
people  were  gathering.  Cornelia  knew  the  reason  of  the  con- 
course—the  heads  of  two  noble  Romans,  just  decapitated, 
were  being  exposed  to  the  gibes  and  howls  of  the  coarse  Greek 
and  Egyptian  mob.  And  Cornelia  wished  that  she  were  her- 
self  a  swallow,  and  might  fly  up  into  the  face  of  the  sun,  until 
the  earth  beneath  her  had  vanished. 


-ii 


<l 


4M 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


But  while  she  leaned  from  the  parapet  by  the  window  of  the 
room,  footsteps  sounded  on  the  mosaic  pavement  without ;  the 
drapery  in  the  doorway  was  flung  aside ;  Agias  entered,  and 
after  him  —  another. 

II 

Drusus  ran  to  Cornelia  and  caught  her  in  hiu  arms ;  and 
she  —  neither  fainted  nor  turned  pale,  but  gave  a  little  laugh, 
and  cried  softly :  — 

"  I  always  knew  you  were  coming ! " 

What  more  follonred  Agias  did  not  know ;  his  little  affair 
with  Artemisia  had  taught  him  that  his  Hellenic  inquisitive- 
ness  sometimes  would  do  more  harm  than  good. 

Very  different  from  the  good-humoured,  careless,  half-boyish 
student  youth  who  had  driven  down  the  Praeneste  road  two 
years  before,  was  the  soldierly  figure  that  Cornelia  pressed 
to  her  heart.  The  campaigning  life  had  left  its  mark  upon 
Drusus.  Half  of  a  little  finger  the  stroke  of  a  Spanish  sword 
had  cleft  away  at  Ilerda;  across  his  forehead  was  the  broad 
scar  left  by  the  fight  at  Phursalus,  from  a  blow  that  he  had 
never  felt  in  the  heat  of  the  battle.  During  the  forced  march- 
ings and  voyages  no  razor  had  touched  his  cheeks,  and  he  was 
thickly  bearded.  But  what  cared  Cornelia?  Had  not  her 
ideal,  her  idol,  gone  forth  into  the  great  world  and  stood  its 
storm  and  stress,  and  fought  in  its  battles,  and  won  due  glory  ? 
Was  he  not  alive,  and  safe,  and  in  health  of  mind  and  body 
after  ten  thousand  had  fallen  around  him  ?  Were  not  the 
clouds  sped  away,  the  lightnings  ceased  ?  And  she  ?  She  was 
happy. 

So  Drusus  told  her  of  all  that  had  befallen  him  since  the 
day  h3  escaped  out  of  Lucius  Ahenobarbus's  hands  at  Baite. 
And  Cornelia  told  of  her  imprisonment  at  the  villa,  and  how 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


455 


Demetrius  had  saved  her,  and  how  it  came  to  pass  that  she  was 
here  at  the  Egyptian  court.  In  turn  Drusus  related  how  Caesar 
had  pursued  Pompeius  into  Asia,  and  then,  hearing  that  the 
Magnus  had  fled  to  Egypt,  placed  two  legions  on  shipboard 
and  sailed  straight  for  Alexandria. 

"  And  when  he  landed,"  continued  the  young  officer,  "  the 
magistrates  of  the  city  came  to  Ctesar,  and  ga.e  him  first  Pom; 
peius's  seal-ring  of  a  lion  holding  a  sword  in  his  paw,  and  then 
another  black-faced  and  black-hearted  Egyptian,  without  notic- 
ing the  distress  the  Imperator  was  in,  came  up  and  xincovered 
something  he  had  wrapped  in  a  mantle.  I  was  beside  the  gen- 
eral when  the  bundle  was  unwrapped.  I  am  sickened  when  I 
speak  of  it.  It  was  the  head  of  Pompeius  Magnus.  The  fools 
thought  to  give  Caesar  a  great  delight." 

"  And  what  did  the  Imperator  do  or  say  ?  "  asked  Cornelia. 

"  He  shrank  back  from  the  horror  as  though  the  Egyptian 
had  been  a  murderer,  as  indeed  all  of  his  race  are.  Caesar  said 
nothing.  Yet  all  saw  how  great  was  his  grief  and  anger.  Soon 
or  late  he  will  requite  the  men  who  slew  thus  foully  the  hus- 
band of  his  daughter  Julia." 

"  You  must  take  me  away  from  them,"  said  Cornelia,  shud- 
dering; "I  am  afraid  every  houi." 

"And  I,  till  you  are  safe  among  our  troops  at  Alexandria," 
replied  Drusus.  "  I  doubt  if  they  would  have  let  me  see  you, 
but  for  Agias.  He  met  us  on  the  road  from  Alexandria  and 
told  me  about  you.  I  had  received  a  special  despatch  from 
Caesar  to  bear  with  all  haste  to  the  king.  So  across  the  Delta 
I  started,  hardly  waiting  for  the  troops  to  disembark,  for  there 
was  need  for  speed.  Agias  I  took  back  with  me,  and  my  first 
demand  when  I  came  here  was  to  see  the  king  and  deliver  my 
letter,  which  was  easily  done  an  hour  ago ;  and  my  next  to  see 
you.    Whereat  that  nasty  sheep  Pothinus  declared  that  you 


( < 


456 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


had  been  sent  some  days  before  up  the  river  on  a  trip  to  tiie 
Memphis  palace  to  see  the  pyramids.  But  Agias  was  close  at 
hand,  and  I  gave  the  eunuch  the  lie  without  difficulty.  The 
rascal  blandly  said,  '  that  he  had  not  seen  you  of  late ;  had 
only  spoken  by  hearsay  about  you,  and  he  might  have  been  mis- 
informed J '  and  so  —    What  do  I  look  like  ?  " 

"  You  look  like  Quintus  Livius  Drusus,  the  Roman  soldier," 
said  Cornelia,  "  and  I  would  not  have  you  otherwise  than  what 
you  are." 

''Ehol"  replied  Drusus,  passing  his  hand  over  her  hair. 
"Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  something?" 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Cornelia,  pressing  closer. 

"I  can  never  write  a  cosmology.  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
evolve  a  new  system  of  ethics.  I  cannot  improve  on  Plato's 
ideal  state.  I  know  I  am  a  very  ignorant  man,  with  only  a 
few  ideas  wo'-th  uttering,  with  a  hand  that  is  very  heavy,  with  a 
mind  that  works  to  little  purpose  save  when  it  deals  with 
politics  and  war.  In  short"  —  and  Druaus's  voice  grew  really 
pathetic  —  "  all  my  learning  carries  me  no  farther  than  did  the 
wisdom  of  Socrates,  *  I  know  that  I  know  nothing ; '  and  I  have 
no  time  to  spend  in  advancing  beyond  that  stage." 

"But  Socrates,"  said  Cornelia,  laughing,  "was  the  wisest 
man  in  Greece,  and  for  that  very  reason." 

"  Well,"  said  Drusus,  ignoring  the  compliment,  as  a  <;ertain 
type  of  men  will  when  the  mood  is  on  them,  "  what  do  you 
wish  me  to  make  of  myself  ?  " 

"I  wish  you  to  make  nothing  different,"  was  her  reply, 
"  for  you  are  precisely  what  I  have  always  wanted  you  to  be. 
When  you  have  read  as  much  as  I  have,"  this  with  an  air 
of  utter  weariness, "  you  will  realize  the  futility  of  philosophic 
study." 

"  Eho  I "  remarked  Drusus  again.    "  So  you  would  have  me 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


457 


feel  that  I  am  turning  my  back  on  nothing  very  great,  after 
all  ?  " 

"And  so  I  mean.'' 

"  Seriously  ?  " 

"I  am  serious,  Quintus."  And  indeed  Cornelia  was.  «I 
can  read  Aristotle  and  Plato,  and  Zeno  and  Cleanthes,  and 
Pyrrho,  and  a  score  of  others.  I  can  spin  out  of  my  own 
brain  a  hundred  theories  of  the  universe  as  good  as  theirs,  but 
my  heart  will  not  be  the  happier,  if  things  outside  make  me  sad. 
I  ?jn  sick  of  the  learning  that  is  no  learning,  that  answers  our 
questions  by  other  questions  that  are  more  riddling." 

"Ah,  scoffer  at  the  wise,"  laughed  Drusus,  "what  do  you 
wish,  then  ?  "    He  spoke  in  Greek. 

«  Speak  in  Latin,  in  Latin,  Quintus,"  was  her  retort.  « I  am 
weary  of  this  fine,  sweet  language  that  tinkles  so  delicately, 
every  word  of  which  hides  a  hundred  meanings,  every  sen- 
tence attx^ned  like  the  notes  for  a  harp.  Let  us  have  our  own 
language,  blunt  ,'ind  to  the  point;  the  language,  not  of  men 
who  >   . :  -hat  they  ought  to  do,  but  who  do.     We  are 

Romr,-  ..reeks.    We  have  to  rule  the  world,  not  growl 

as  to  .piter  made  it.     When  you  came  back  from 

Athens  i  jjaid,  'I  love  Quintus  Drusus,  but  I  would  love  him 
more  if  he  were  less  a  Hellene.'  And,  now  I  see  you  wholly 
Roman,  I  love  you  wholly.  And  for  myself,  I  wish  neither 
to  be  a  Sappho,  nor  an  Aspasia,  nor  a  Semirarais,  but  Cornelia 
the  Roman  matron,  who  obeys  her  husband,  Quintus  Drusus, 
who  cares  for  his  house,  and  whom,  in  turn,  her  household 
fears  and  obeys." 

"0 temporal  0  mores!"  cried  the  young  soldier,  in  delight. 
"  When  had  ever  a  woman  ouch  ambition  in  these  degenerate 
days?  Eu!  Then  I  will  burn  my  books,  if  you  can  get  no 
profit  out  of  them." 


458 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


ji! 


"  I  do  not  think  books  are  bad,"  said  Cornelia,  still  soberly, 
'but  I  know  that  they  can  never  make  me  happy." 
"  What  can  ?  "  demanded  her  tormenter. 

♦  *****♦♦*• 
So  the  hours  of  the  afternoon  ran  on,  and  the  lovers  gave 
them  little  heed.  But  they  were  not  too  selfish  to  refuse  to 
Fabia's  sharing  in  their  joy;  and  Drusus  knew  that  he  was 
dear  no  less,  though  differently,  in  the  eyes  of  his  aunt  than 
of  his  betrothed.  And  there  were  duties  to  perform  that  not 
even  the  long-deferred  dv.  ights  of  the  afternoon  could  post- 
pone. Chief  of  these  were  the  arrangements  for  the  immediate 
departure  of  the  Roman  ladies  for  Alexandria.  Agias,  who 
was  called  into  the  council,  was  invaluable  in  information  and 
suggestion.  He  said  that  Pothinus  had  acted  at  Pratinas's 
advice,  when  he  took  Fabia  and  Cornelia  to  the  palace.  The 
eunuch  had  expected  to  use  them  half  as  hostages,  half  as 
captives  to  be  put  to  ransom.  If  Caesar  had  delayed  a  few 
days,  Pothinus  would  not  have  lied  when  he  made  excuse  that 
the  ladies  had  been  sent  up  the  river.  But  now  Agias  believed 
that  the  regent  was  afraid,  having  overreached  himself,  and 
it  was  best  to  make  a  prompt  demand  for  conveyance  to  Alex- 
andria. This,  indeed,  proved  advantageous  policy.  The  euniicli 
made  difficulties  and  suggested  obstacles,  but  Drusus  made 
his  native  Italian  haughtiness  stand  him  in  good  stead.  It 
would  largely  depend,  he  said  insinuatingly,  on  the  way  in 
which  his  demand  was  complied  with,  what  sort  of  a  report 
he  made  to  Csesar  touching  the  execution  of  Lucius  Lentulus 
and  Ahenobarbus.  During  his  interview  with  Pothinus,  the 
Roman  came  face  to  face  with  Pratinas.  No  words  were 
exchanged,  but  Drusus  noticed  that  the  elegant  HeDeue 
flushed,  and  then  turned  pale,  when  he  fastened  upon  him  a 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


459 


gaze  steady  and  half  menacing.  Pothinus  ended  by  yielding 
everything  —  the  use  of  the  royal  chariots  and  horses,  the 
use  of  the  Nile  boats  needed  "or  swift  transit  across  tlie  Delta, 
and  orders  on  the  local  garrisons  and  governors  to  provide 
entertainment  and  assistance. 

As  a  result  Cornelia  speedily  found  herself  again  journey- 
ing, not  this  time  in  a  slow  barge  following  the  main  branches 
of  the  Nile,  but  by  more  rapid,  if  less  luxurious,  conveyance, 
now  by  land,  now  by  water,  hurrying  westward.  They  passed 
through  Setnroe  and  Tanis,  Mendes  and  Sebennytus,  Xais  and 
Sais,  where  were  the  tomb  of  Osiris  and  the  great  Egyptian 
university  in  this  the  capital  of  the  mighty  Pharaohs  who  had 
wrested  the  nation  from  the  clutches  of  Assyria.  Then  they 
fared  up  the  Nile  to  the  old  Milesian  trading  factory  of  Nau- 
cratis,  —  now  dropping  into  decline  beside  the  thriving  Alexan- 
dria, —  and  then  by  boat  they  pressed  on  to  the  capital  itself. 
Never  more  delightful  journey  for  Cornelia  or  for  Drusus; 
they  saw  the  strange  land  through  one  another's  eyes ;  they 
expressed  the:  ~  m  thoughts  through  one  another's  lips ;  they 
were  happy  t(  •her,  as  if  children  at  play ;  and  Fabia  was 
their  never  exacting,  ever  beneficent,  guardian  goddess. 

Drusus  and  Cornelia  were  neither  of  them  the  same  young 
persons  who  had  met  in  the  gardens  of  the  villa  of  the  Lentuli 
two  short  years  before.  They  saw  life  with  a  soberer  gi'ze; 
they  had  both  the  wisdom  that  experience  teaches.  Yet  for  the 
time  not  a  cloud  was  drifting  across  their  skj.  Their  passions 
and  hates  had  been  too  fierce,  too  pagan,  to  feel  the  death  of 
even  Cornelia's  uncle  vc.y  keenly.  Lucius  Ahenobarbus  was 
dead  —  they  had  no  more  thought  fcr  him  than  for  a  dead 
viper.  Lucius  Domitius  was  dead.  Gabinius  and  Dumnorix 
were  dead.  Pompeius,  the  tool  of  guiltier  men  than  himself, 
was  dead.    Pratinas  alone  of  all  those  who  had  crossed  their 


460 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


path  remained;  but  th^  wily  Greek  was  a  mere  creature  of 
self-interest  —  what  had  he  to  gain  by  pressing  his  animosity, 
if  he  had  any,  against  them  ?  Caesar  was  triumphant.  His 
enemies  were  barely  lifting  their  heads  in  Africa.  Doubtless 
there  was  stern  work  awaiting  the  Imperator  there,  but  what  of 
it?  Was  he  not  invincible?  Was  he  not  about  to  commence 
a  new  order  of  things  in  the  world,  to  tear  down  the  old  and 
decaying,  to  raise  up  a  steadfast  fabric  ?  Therefore  the  little 
party  took  its  pleasure,  and  enjoyed  eveiy  ancient  temple  of  the 
Amenhoteps,  Thothmeses,  and  Ramesides  that  they  hurriedly 
visited;  wc  the  favour  of  the  wrinkled  old  priests  by  their 
plentiful  vou/es  of  bright  philippi;  heard  a  hundred  time- 
honoured  tales  that  they  knew  not  whether  to  believe  or  laugh 
at ;  speculated  among  themselves  as  to  the  sources  of  the  Nile, 
the  cause  of  the  vocal  Memnon,  and  fifty  more  darkened  won- 
ders, and  resolved  to  solve  every  mystery  during  a  second  and 
more  prolonged  visit. 

So  they  came  to  Alexandria,  but  on  the  way  called  at  the 
Nile  villa  where  was  Artemisia,  and,  to  the  great  satisfaction 
of  that  young  lady  and  of  ^.gias,  carried  her  along  with  them  to 
the  house  of  Cleomenes,  where  that  affable  host  and  Berenice 
and  Monime  received  them  with  open  arms. 

Their  pleasure  at  this  reunion,  however,  began  to  abate  whec 
they  realized  the  disturbed  state  of  the  city. 

"  I  can't  say  I  like  the  situation,"  admitted  Cleomenes,  as 
soon  as  he  had  been  introd^.ce^^  ,  Drusus,  and  the  first  greet- 
ings were  over;  "you  know  when  Caesar  landed  he  took  his  con- 
sular insignia  with  him,  and  the  mob  made  this  mean  that  he 
was  intending  to  overthrow  the  government  and  make  Egypt 
a  Roman  province.  If  you  had  not  left  for  Pelusium  so  hastily, 
you  would  have  been  present  at  a  very  serious  riot,  that  was 
with  great  difficulty  put  down.     The  soldiers  of  the  royal 


BITTERNESS  AND  JO^.  461 

garrison  are  in  an  ugly  mood,  and  so  are  the  people.  I  suspect 
the  king,  or  rather  Pothinus,  is  doing  nothing  to  quiet  them. 
There  have  been  slight  riots  for  several  days  past,  and  a  good 
many  Roman  soldiers  who  have  straggled  away  from  :he  palace 
into  the  lower  quarters  of  the  city  have  been  mur    .-nd." 

« I  am  glad,"  replied  Drusus,  "  that  I  can  leave  .melia  and 
my  aunt  under  your  protection,  for  my  duty  may  keep  me  con- 
tmuously  with  the  Imperator." 

The  young  officer  at  once  hastened  to  the  palace  and  reported 
for  service.  Caesar  question<a  him  as  to  the  situation  at 
Pelusium,  and  Drusus  described  the  unpromising  attitude  of 
Pothinus,  and  p'so  mentioned  how  he  had  found  Corneli ,  and 
his  auut. 

The  general,  engrossed  as  he  was  with  his  business  of  state 
and  threatening  war,  put  all  his  duties  aside  and  at  once  went 
to  the  house  of  Cleomenes.  It  was  the  first  time  Cornelia  had 
ever  met  the  man  whose  career  had  exerted  such  an  influence 
upon  her  own  life.  She  hac  at  first  known  o.  'nim  only  th  gh 
the  filthy,  slanderous  verses  of  such  oligarchs  as  Catullu  ud 
Calvus;  then  through  her  lover  she  had  come  to  k.-k  upon 
Caesar  as  an  incarnation  as  it  were  of  omniscience,  '.impotence, 
and  benevolence  — the  man  for  whom  ev.^rything  v  as  worth 
sctcrificing,  from  whom  every  noble  thing  was  to  be  expected. 

She  met  the  conquerer  of  Ariovistus,  Vercingetorix,  and 
Pompeius  like  the  frank-hearted,  patrician  maiden  that  she 
was,  without  shyness,  without  servility. 

"My  father  died  in  your  army,"  she  said  on  meeting;  "my 
affianced  husband  has  taught  me  to  admire  you,  as  he  him- 
self  does.    Let  us  be  friends ! " 

And  Caesar  bowed  as  became  the  polished  gentleman,  who 
had  been  the  centre  of  the  most  brilliant  salons  r.  Rome,  and 
took  the  hand  she  offered,  and  replied :  — 


462 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


"Ah!  Lady  Cornelia,  we  have  been  friends  long,  though 
never  we  met  before !  But  I  am  doubly  the  friend  of  whoso- 
ever is  the  friend  of  Quintus  Livius  Drusus." 

Whereupon  Cornelia  was  more  completely  the  vassal  of  the 
Imperator  than  ever,  and  words  flew  fast  between  them.  In 
short,  just  as  in  the  case  with  Cleopatra,  she  opened  her  heart 
before  she  knew  that  she  had  said  anything,  and  told  of  all 
her  life,  with  its  shadows  and  brightness ;  and  Caesar  listened 
and  sympathized  as  might  a  father;  and  Drusus  perfectly 
realized,  if  Cornelia  could  not — how  many-sided  was  the  man 
who  could  thus  turn  from  weighing  the  fate  of  empires  to 
entering  unfeignedly  into  a  sharing  of  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
a  very  young,  and  still  quite  unsophisticated,  woman. 

When  the  Imperator  departed  Drusus  accompanied  him  to 
the  palace.  Neither  of  the  two,  general  nor  subaltern,  spoke 
for  a  long  while ;  at  last  Caesar  remarked  :  — 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  uppermost  in  my  mind,  after  meet- 
ing women  like  Fabia  or  Cornelia  ?  " 

Drusus  shook  his  head. 

"  I  believe  that  there  are  gods,  who  bring  such  creatures  into 
the  world.  They  are  not  chance  accretions  of  atoms."  And 
then  Caesar  added,  half  dreamily :  "  You  ought  to  be  a  very 
happy  man.  I  was  once  —  it  was  many  years  ago.  Her  name 
was  Cornelia  also." 

********** 

Serious  and  more  serious  grew  the  situation  at  Alexandria. 
King  Ptolemaeus  and  Pothinus  came  to  the  city  from  Pelusiura. 
Caesar  had  announced  that  he  intended  to  examine  the  title  of 
the  young  monarch  to  the  undivided  crown,  and  make  him 
show  cause  why  he  had  expelled  Cleopatra.  This  the  will  of 
Ptolemaeus  Auletes  had  enjoined  the  Roman  government  to  do; 
for  in  it  he  had  commissioned  his  allies  to  see  that  his  oldest 
children  shared  the  inheritance  equally. 


BITTERNESS  AND  JOY 


463 


But  Pothinus  came  to  Alexandria,  and  trouble  came  with 
him.  He  threw  every  possible  obstacle  in  Caesar's  way  when 
the  latter  tried  to  collect  a  heavy  loan  due  the  Romans  by  the 
late  king.  The  etesian  winds  made  it  impossible  to  bring  up 
reeuforcements,  and  Caesar's  force  was  very  small.  Pothinus 
grew  more  insolent  each  day.  For  the  first  time,  Drusus  ob- 
served that  his  general  was  nervous,  and  suspicious  lest  he  be 
assassinated.  Finally  the  Imperator  determined  to  force  a 
crisis.  To  leave  Egypt  without  humbling  Pothinus  meant  a 
great  lowering  of  prestige.  He  sent  off  a  private  message  to 
Palestine  that  Cleoi>atra  should  come  to  Alexandria. 

Cleopatra  came,  not  in  royal  procession,  for  she  knew  too 
well  the  finesse  of  the  regent's  underlings;  but  entered  the 
harbour  in  disguise  in  a  small  boat;  and  ApoUodorus,  her  Sicil- 
ian confidant,  carried  her  into  Caesar's  presence  wrapped  in  a 
bale  of  bedding  which  he  had  slung  across  his  back. 

The  queen's  suit  was  won.  Cleopatra  and  the  Imperator  met, 
and  the  two  strong  personalities  recognized  each  other's  affinity 
instantly.  Her  coming  was  as  a  thunder-clap  to  Pothinus  and 
his  puppet  Ptolemaeus.  They  could  only  cringe  and  acquiesce 
when  Caesar  ordered  them  to  be  reconciled  with  the  queen, 
and  seal  her  restoration  by  a  splendid  court  banquet. 

The  palace  servants  made  ready  for  the  feast.  The  rich  and 
noblf  of  Alexandria  were  invited.  The  stores  of  gold  and  silver 
vessels  treasured  in  the  vaults  of  the  Lagidae  were  brought 
forth.  The  arches  and  columns  of  the  palace  were  festooned 
with  flowers.  The  best  pipers  and  harpers  of  the  great  city 
were  summoned  to  delight  with  their  music.  Precious  wine  of 
Tanis  was  ready  to  flow  like  water. 

Drusus  saw  the  preparations  with  a  glad  heart.  Cornelia 
would  be  present  in  all  her  radiancy;  and  who  there  would  be 
more  radiant  than  she  ? 


hill. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


BATTLING   FOB  LIFB 


I '    <> 


And  then  it  was,  —  with  the  chariots  bearing  the  guests 
almost  driving  in  at  the  gates  of  the  palace,  —  that  Cerrinius, 
Caesar's  barber,  came  before  his  master  with  an  alarming  tale. 
The  worthy  man  declared  that  he  had  lighted  on  nothing  less 
than  a  plot  to  murder  the  Komans,  one  and  all,  by  admitting 
Achillas's  soldiery  to  the  palace  enclosure,  while  all  the  ban- 
queters were  helpless  with  drugged  wine.  Pratinas,  who  had 
been  supposed  to  be  at  Pelusium,  Cerrinius  had  caught  in 
retired  conference  with  Pothinus,  planning  the  arrangement  of 
the  feast.  Achillas's  mercenary  army  was  advancing  by 
stealthy  marches  to  enter  the  city  in  i  course  of  the  even- 
ing. The  mob  had  been  aroused  by  agitators,  until  it  was  in 
a  mood  to  rise  en  masse  against  the  Komans,  and  join  in 
destroying  them.     Such,  in  short,  was  the  barber's  story. 

There  was  no  time  to  delay.  Caesar  was  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  and  probably  hostile  land,  and  to  fail  to  take  warn- 
ing were  suicide.  He  sent  for  Pothinus,  and  demanded  the 
whereabouts  of  Achillas's  army.  The  regent  stammered  that 
it  was  at  Pelusium.  Caesar  followed  up  the  charge  by  inquir- 
ing about  Pratinas.  Pothinus  swore  that  he  was  at  r*elusium 
also.  But  Caesar  cut  his  network  of  lies  short,  by  command- 
ing that  a  malefactor  shoiUd  be  forced  to  swallow  a  beaker  of 

464 


BATTLING  FOB  LIFE 


466 


In  a  few  moments  the 


the  wine  prepared  for  the  banquet, 
man  was  in  a  helpless  stupor. 

The  case  was  proved  and  Caesar  became  all  action.  A 
squad  of  legionaries  haltd  Pothinus  away  to  an  execution  not 
long  delayed.  Other  legionaries  disarmed  and  replaced  the 
detachment  of  the  royal  guard  that  controlled  the  palace  gates 
and  walls.  And  barely  had  these  steps  been  taken,  when  a 
courier  thundered  into  the  palace,  hardly  escaped  through  the 
raging  mob  that  was  gaining  control  of  the  city.  Achillas,  he 
reported,  had  wantonly  murdered  Dioscorides  and  Serapion, 
whom  Caesar  had  sent  as  envoys  to  Pelusium,  and  was  marching 
on  the  city  with  his  whole  army  of  Italian  renegades,  Syrian 
banditti,  convicts,  and  runaway  slaves,  twenty  thousand  strong. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  prepare  to  weather  the  storm 
in  the  palace  enclosure,  which,  with  its  high  walls,  was  prac- 
tically a  fortress  in  itself.    There  were  only  four  thousand 
Romans,  and  yet  there  was  a  long  circuit  of  defences  to  man. 
But  Drusus  never  saw  his  general  putting  forth  greater  energy. 
That  night,  instead  of  feasting,  the  soldiers  laboured,  piling  up 
the  ramparts  by  the  light  of  torches.     The  city  was  surging 
and  thundering  without  the  palace  gates.    Caesar  had  placed 
the  king  under  guard,  but  ArsinoS  — his  younger  sister  — had 
slipped  out  of  the  palace  to  join  herself  to  the  advancing  host 
of  Achillas,  and  speedily  that  general  would  be  at  hand.    Caesar 
as  usual  was  everywhere,  with  new  schemes  for  the  defences, 
new  enthusiasm  for  his  officers,  new  inspiration  for  his  men. 
No  one  slept  nor  cared  to  sleep  inside  the  palace  walls.     They 
toiled  for  dear  life,  for  with  morning,  at  most,  Achillas  would 
be  upon  them ;  and  by  morning,  if  Pothinus's  plans  had  not 
failed,  they  would  have  been  drugged  and  helpless  to  a  man, 
none  able  to  draw  sword  from  scabbard.     It  was  a  new  experi- 
ence  to  one  and  all,  for  these  Romans  to  stand  on  the  defensive 
2a 


466 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


M 


For  once  Caesar  had  made  a  false  step — he  ought  to  have  taken 
on  his  voyage  more  men.  He  stood  with  his  handful,  with 
the  sea  on  one  side  of  him  and  a  great  city  and  a  nation  in 
arms  against  him  on  the  other.  The  struggle  was  not  to  be  for 
empire,  but  for  life.  But  the  Romans  were  too  busy  that  night 
to  realize  anything  save  the  need  of  untiring  exertion.  If 
they  had  counted  the  odds  against  them,  four  thousand  against 
a  nation,  they  might  well  have  despaired,  though  their  chief- 
tain were  Caesar. 

Two  years  earlier  Drusus,  as  he  hurried  to  and  fro  transmit- 
ting orders  for  his  general,  might  have  been  fain  to  draw  aside 
and  muse  on  the  strangeness  of  the  night  scene.     The  sky  was 
clear,  as  almost  always  in  a  land  where  a  thunder-storm  is  often 
as  rare  as  an  eclipse ;  the  stars  twinkled  out  of  heavens  of  soft 
blackness;  the  crescent  of  a  new  moon  hung  like  a  silvered 
bow  out  over  the  harbour,  and  made  a  thin  pathway  of  lustre 
across  the  moving,  shimmering  waters.     Dimly  the  sky-line 
was  visible;  by  the  Pharos  and  its  mole  loomed  the  vague 
tracery  of  masts.     On  the  west  and  the  south  lay  the  white  and 
dark  masses  of  the  city,  now  and  then  brought  into  clearer 
relief  as  the  moonbeams  swept  across  some  stately  pile,  and 
touched  on  its  Corinthian  columns  and  nobly  wrought  pedi- 
meuts.     But  Drusus  was  a  soldier ;  and  the  best  of  poets  doubt- 
less work  poorly  when  their  lives  are  hanging  in  the  balance. 
Over  the  flower-strewn  walks,  under  the  festooned  colonnades, 
ran  the  busy  legionaries,  bestirring  themselves  as  never  before ; 
while  Diomedes,  and  Hector,  and  Patroclus,  and  fifty  other 
heroic  worthies  waged  perpetual  battle  on  their  marble  heights 
above  the  soldiers'  heads.     On  occasion  Drusus  was  called  to 
one  of  the  upper  terraces  and  pinnacles  of  the  palace  buildings, 
and  then  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  whole  sweep  of  the 
mighty  city.    Over  to  the  southeast,  where  was  the  Jewish 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE 


467 


quarter,  the  sky  was  beginning  to  redden.  The  mob  had  begun 
to  vent  its  passions  on  the  innocent  Israelites,  and  the  incen- 
diary was  at  his  work.  A  deep,  low,  gru  vling  hum,  as  of  ten 
thousand  angry  voices,  drifted  upon  the  night  air.  The  beast 
called  the  Alexandrian  rabble  was  loose,  and  it  was  a  terrible 
animal. 

It  was  midnight.  Drusus  had  toiled  since  noon.  He  had 
hardly  tasted  food  or  drink  since  morning,  but  there  were  three 
feet  more  of  brick,  stone,  and  rubbish  to  be  added  still  to  this 
and  that  rampart  before  it  would  be  secure,  and  a  whole  wing 
of  the  overgrown  palace  must  be  pulled  down  to  furnish  the 
material.  He  lad  climbed  out  u;)on  the  roof  to  aid  in  tearing 
up  the  tiles  anc  to  encourage  the  men  by  his  example,  when 
some  one  plucked  him  from  behind  on  the  cloak  —  it  was  C«sar. 
"  You  are  not  nteded  here,"  said  the  general,  in  a  voice  that 
seemed  a  bit  strained  to  keep  calm.  "  Read  this  —  take  all  the 
men  you  want." 

And  the  Imperator  himself  held  up  the  torch,  while  Drusus 
took  the  tablet  thrust  into  his  hands  and  read  the  hastily  scrib- 
bled lines :  — 

"  Cleomenes  to  Drnsus.  The  ladies  are  in  danger.  I  will 
resist  the  mob  as  long  as  I  ?an.    Send  help." 

Drusus  threw  down  the  tablet ;  forgot  to  so  much  as  salute 
his  commander.  He  had  laid  off  his  armour  during  the  work  on 
the  ramparts ;  he  ran  for  It,  put  it  on  with  feverish  haste.  A 
moment  more  and  he  was  running  among  the  soldiers,  calling 
tiiis  and  that  legionary  by  name.  The  troops  all  knew  him, 
and  would  have  followed  him  to  the  death.  When  he  asked 
for  thirty  volunteers  for  dangerous  service,  none  demanded  of 
him  the  occasion;  he  simply  selected  his  men  as  fast  as  he 
might.  He  secured  four  chariots  and  placsd  in  them  the  fast- 
est horses  iii  the  royal  stables  and  trusted  men  for  drivers 


H 


i! 


468 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


He  mounted  the  rest  of  his  thirty  on  other  steeds,  and  t^e 
preparations  were  over.  The  ^ate  was  thrown  open ;  Decimus 
Mamercus,  who  was  his  subaltern,  led  out  the  little  company. 
Drusus  rode  out  last,  in  one  of  the  chariots.  The  troops  on  the 
walls  cheered  them  as  they  departed. 

In  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the  palace  there  prevailed 
pn  ominous  silence.  Earlier  in  the  night  .a  few  cohorts  had 
charged  out  and  scattered  the  stret^t  rabble ;  and  the  mob  had 
kept  at  a  distance.  There  was  no  light  save  that  of  the  moon 
and  the  distant  glow  of  the  burning  buildings.  Drusus  felt  his 
breath  coming  thick  and  fast,  the  drops  of  sweat  were  hang- 
ing on  his  forehead,  something  within  was  driving  his  heart 
into  his  throat.  "If  — "  he  never  went  further;  unless  hd 
brought  Cornelia  and  Fabia  back  to  the  palace  unscathed,  he 
knew  the  Alexandrian  rabble  would  howl  over  hia  unconscious 
body. 

"  Ride ! "  he  commanded,  as  if  the  rush  of  the  chariots  and 
horses  would  drown  the  fears  that  nearly  drove  him  frantic. 
"Ride!" 

The  drivers  lashed  the  teams,  the  horsemen  pricked  with 
the  spur.  Drusus  caught  the  reins  from  his  chariot  compan- 
ion, and  swung  the  lash  himself  over  the  four  steeds.  Faster 
and  faster  they  flew  down  the  splendidly  paved  and  built  high- 
ways. Temples  and  majestic  public  buildings  rose  in  sombre 
grandeur  above  their  heads ;  above  them  winged  "  Victories  " 
seemed  sj~'.inging  up  into  dark  void,  their  sculptured  sym- 
metries just  visible  in  the  moonlight.  On  and  on,  swift  and 
more  swift  —  persons  began  shouting  from  the  buildings  which 
they  passed,  now  a  few  voices,  now  many,  now  a  hundred.  A 
volley  of  stones  was  dashed  down  from  the  safe  recesres  of  the 
pillars  at  the  head  of  the  long  flight  of  steps  leading  up  to  a 
temple.    Presently  an  arrow  whirred  over  Drusus's  head  and 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE 


469 


smote  on  the  masonry  across  the  street.  There  were  lights 
ahead  — scores  of  torches  waving  — a  small  building  was  on 
fire;  th.  glare  grew  redder  and  brighter  every  instant;  and 
a  din,  a  din  lifted  by  ten  thousand  men  whei  their  brute 
instincts  are  enkindled,  grew  and  grew.  Drvsus  dushed  the 
cold  sweat  from  his  brow,  his  hand  was  trembling.  He  had  a 
quiver  and  bow  in  the  chariot,  — a  powerful  Parthian  bow, 
and  the  arrows  were  abundant.  Mamercus  had  taught  him  to 
oe  a  good  archer,  as  a  boy.  Could  he  turn  his  old  skiU  to 
account  ?    Not  unless  his  hand  became  more  steady. 

Women  screamed  out  at  him  and  his  band  from  the  house 
roofs;    a  tile  struck  one  of  the  chariot  horses  and  made  it 
plunge  wildly ;  Drusus  flung  his  strength  into  the  reins,  and 
curbed  in  the  raging  beast ;  he  tossed  the  lines  back  to  his 
driver  and  tore  the  bow  from  its  casings.     His  car  had  rushed 
on  ahead  of  Decimus  Mamercus  and  thy  rest;  two  furlong   more 
would  bring  him  to  the  house  ot  CJeomenes  on  one  of  the 
squares  of  the  city.     The  chariot  swung  aroand  a  street  cor- 
ner for  the  final  stretch,  the  way  .vas  broad,  the  buildings  on 
either  side  (the  residences  of  the  Alexandrian  gentry)  high ; 
but  the  whole  st  ,et  from  wall  to  wall  was  a  seething  mass  of 
human   forms.      The  fire  was    spreading,    the   brightening 
flames  shone  down  on  the  tossing,  howling  multitude  —  excited 
Egyptians  from  the  quarter  of  Ehacotis,  frenzied  Asiatics  in 
their  turbans,  mad  sailors  from  the  Eunostian  port  and  the 
Pharos  island.     At  the  head  of  the  street  the  flames  were 
pressing  in  upon  a  stately  mansion  around  which  the  raging 
mob  was  packed  thickly.    On  the  roof  of  the  threatened  house 
figures  could  be  seen  in  the  lurid  light,  running  to  and  fro, 
flinging  down  bricks  an''  stones,  and  trying  to  beat  back  the 
fire.    It  was  the  house  of  Cleomene.«.     '^•isensibly  the  veteran 
who  had  been  driving  reined  in  the  horses,  who  themselves 


I: 


470 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


drew  back,  loath  to  plunge  into  the  living  barriers  ahead.  But 
Drusus  was  past  fear  or  prudence ;  with  his  own  hands  he 
sent  the  lash  stinging  over  all  the  four,  and  the  team,  that  had 
won  more  than  a  single  trophy  in  the  games,  shot  forward. 
The  chariot  struck  the  multitude  and  went,  not  through  it,  but 
over  it.  The  on-rush  was  too  rapid,  too  unexpected,  for  resist- 
ance. To  right  and  left,  as  the  water  gives  way  before  the 
bows  of  an  on-rushing  ship,  the  crowd  surged  back,  the 
instinct  of  panic  reigning  in  every  breast.  Thick  and  fast, 
as  quickly  as  he  might  set  shaft  to  string,  flew  Drusus's  arrows 
—  not  a  shaft  that  failed  a  mark,  as  it  cut  into  the  living 
masses.  The  chariot  reele:i  again  and  again.  ■!  this  wheel  or 
that  passed  over  something  animate  and  struggling.  The 
horses  caught  the  fire  of  conflict ;  they  raced,  they  ran  —  and 
the  others  sped  after  them.  The  mob  left  off  howling:  it 
screamed  with  a  single  voice  of  mortal  dread.  And  before 
Drusus  or  any  one  else  realized,  the  deed  was  done,  the  long 
lane  was  cleared,  and  the  drivers  were  drawing  rein  before 
the  house  of  Cleomenes. 

The  heavily  barred  carriage-way  was  thrown  open,  the 
valiant  merchant  and  his  faithful  employees  and  slaves  greeted 
their  rescuers  as  the  little  cavalcade  drove  in.  There  was  not 
a  moment  to  lose.  Cleomenes  and  his  household  might  indeed 
have  long  made  good  the  house  against  the  mere  attacks  of  the 
mob;  but  the  rioters  had  set  the  torch  to  some  adjacent  build- 
ings, and  all  efforts  to  beat  back  the  flames  were  proving  futile. 
There  was  no  time  to  condole  with  the  merchant  over  the  loss 
of  his  house.  The  mob  had  surged  again  into  the  streets  and 
was  pressing  back,  this  time  more  or  less  prepared  to  resist  the 
Romans.  The  colonnades  and  the  house  roofs  were  swarming, 
the  din  was  indescribable,  and  the  crackling  and  roar  of  the 
advancing  flames  grew  ever  louder. 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE  471 

The  only  alternative  was  a  return  to  the  palace.  Cleomenes's 
employees  and  slaves  were  to  scatter  into  the  crowd,  where 
they  would  easily  escape  notice  j  he  himself,  with  his  daughters. 
Artemisia,  and  the  Roman  ladies,  must  go  in  the  chariots  to 
the  palace.  Cornelia  came  down  from  her  chamber,  her  face 
more  flushed  with  excitement  than  alarm.  Troubles  enough 
she  had  had,  but  never  before  personal  dangerj  and  she  could 
not  easily  grasp  the  peril. 

"Are  you  afraid,  carissima,"  said  Drusus.  lifting  her  into 
his  chariot,  "to  ride  back  with  me  to  the  pal'ac.3,  through  that 
wolf  pack?" 

"With  you?"  she  said,  admiring  the  ease  with  which  he 
sprang  about  in  full  armour;  "  I  would  laugh  at  Medusa  or  the 
Hydra  of  Lerna  with  you  beside  me." 

Cleomenes  had  been  again  upon  the  housetop  to  wateh  the 
progress  of  the  fire.  He  came  down,  and  Drusus  instantly 
saw  that  there  was  dismay  written  on  his  face.  The  mer- 
chant, who  was  himself  armed  with  sword  and  target,  drew  the 
officer  aside  and  whispered:  — 

"Pray,  Roman,  to  all  your  native  gods!     I  can  see  a  lochos^ 
of  regular  troops  filing  into  the  square  before  the  house 
Achillas  IS  entering  the  city  with  his  men.     We  shall  have  to 
fight  our  way  through  his  thousands." 

Drusus  uttered  a  deep  and  silent  curse  on  himself  for  the 
mad  bravado  that  led  him  to  leave  the  palace  with  but  thirty 
men;  why  had  he  not  waited  to  assemble  more?  He  could 
ride  over  the  mob;  to  master  Achillas's  disciplined  forces  was 
otherwise. 

A  freedman  came  running  down  from  the  roof,  crying  out 
that  It  was  already  on  fire.     It  was  a  time  for  action,  not 
thought,  yet  even  at  the  moment  Drusus's  schoolboy  Polyb- 
» A  company  of  about  one  hundred  men. 


472 


A  FKIEND  OF  CiESAB 


id 

'  li! 


ius  was  running  through  his  mind  —  the  description  of  the 
great  riot  when  Agathocles,  the  wicked  regent  of  Ptolemseus 
Philopator,  and  his  sister  Agathocleia,  and  hie  mother  Oenan- 
the,  had  been  seized  by  the  multitude  and  torn  in  pieces,  bit 
by  bit,  while  yet  they  lived.  Cornelia  seemed  to  have  caught 
some  new  cause  for  fear;  she  was  trembling  and  shivering 
when  Drusus  took  her  in  his  arms  and  swung  her  into  the 
chariot.  He  lifted  in  Fabia  likewise,  but  the  Vestal  only 
bowed  her  head  in  calm  silence.  She  had  overheard  Cleom- 
enes's  tidings,  but,  by  stress  of  all  the  force  of  her  strong 
nature,  remained  composed.  Decimus  Mamercus  took  Arte- 
misia, frightened  and  crying,  into  his  own  chariot.  Monime, 
Berenice,  and  their  father  were  to  go  in  the  other  cars.  The 
fire  was  gaining  on  the  roof,  smoke  was  pouring  down  into  the 
court-yard,  and  now  and  then  a  gleam  came  from  a  firebrand. 
The  horses  were  growing  restive  and  frightened. 

"  Throw  open  the  gate ! "  commanded  Drusus ;  his  anxieties 
and  despair  were  driving  him  almost  to  frenzy,  but  the  gods, 
if  gods  there  w-sre,  knew  that  it  was  not  for  himself  that  he 
was  fearful.  His  voice  sounded  hollow  in  his  throat;  he 
would  have  given  a  talent  of  gold  for  a  draught  of  water. 
One  of  his  men  flung  back  the  gateway,  and  in  at  the  entrance 
came  the  glare  of  great  bonfires  lighted  in  the  streets,  of 
hundreds  of  tossing  torches.  The  yelling  of  the  multitude 
was  louder  than  ever.  There  it  was,  packed  thick  on  all 
sides :  in  its  midst  Drusus  could  see  bright  lines  of  tossing 
steel  —  the  armour  of  Achillas's  soldiery!  As  the  portal 
opened,  a  mighty  howl  of  triumph  burst  from  the  people; 
the  fire  had  driven  forth  to  the  mob  its  prey.  Cornelia 
heard  the  howl  —  the  voice  of  a  wild  and  raging  beast  —  and 
trembled  more. 

"Cornelia,"  said  Drusus,  lowering  his  head  so  as  to  make 


BATTLING  FOE  LIFE 


473 

chrof  ""rr"'  7"  "'  '"^^  '"^'^^  *^«  ^--«--k  of  the 
ohl  '  Tl  ^  ''  *'^^*^^'  '"^  ^«  "^^y  l'--^  to  pass  over 
obstades.  Above  all,  do  not  spring  out,  however  Cch  we 
may  be  swayed  and  shaken  " 

tJ^;!^^:^""^'"  ^"^  ''^'  --  ^"  «^«  -^cl  be  heard 

mthechanot  and  saw  nothing  and  heard  everything,  which 
.a.  the  ^^e  as  nothing.     Was  she  frightened/  Shf  didtot 

but  ho/     if"  1  ^''  ^^'"^'     ^'  '^^"^^^  «he  realized  that; 
but  how  coud  calamity  come  to  pass,  when  it  was  Drusus 
whose  powerful  form  towered  above  her,  when  it  was  Dr^s" 
wh.e^  vo.ce  rang  like  a  trumpet  out  into  the  press  swa^L"; 

It  was  very  dark  crouching  in  the  body  of  the  chariot.    She 
could  just  see  the  face  of  Fabia  opposite,  very  white,  but,  she 

hanT'aI7d-  ft  ""'^'  °"*  ^"^^  ^-^^^*  '^^  festal' 

hand  and  discovered  that  her  own  was  trembling,  while  the 

: W  To^tt  ^*"'^-     ^"^  '''  ^°'^^-^'  the'fighting  an 
about!    Now  the  horses  were  dashing  forward,  making  the 

chariot  spring  as  though  it  were  a  thing  of  life;  now  reined 

m  sharply,  and  the  heavily  loaded  car  swayed  this  way  and 

tWel  rT  °^^^™^"^-  'T^^  -P--  above  her  head  passed 
the  telling  by  words;  but  there  was  one  shout,  now  in  Greek 
now  m  Egyptian,  that  drowned  all  others:  "Death  to  the 
Romans!  tear  them  in  pieces!"  Missiles  smote  against  the 
chariot;  an  arrow  went  cutting  into  the  wood,  driving  its  keen 
poin    home,  and  Cornelia  experienced  a  thrill  of  pain  in  her 

Toin to:;    b  ;  ''''  '"  *'^  ^"^^^*'  ''^^'  themere'tipof  th 
point  only  had  penetmted  the  wood;  but  her  lingers  were  wet 
when  she  took  them  away.     Drusus  was  shooH ,,:  his  boi^- 
string  snapped  and  snapped.     Once  a  soldier    .        .ur  sprang 


474 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


,.,|- 


oehind  the  chariot  when  it  came  to  a  stop,  and  his  javelin  was 
poifted  to  discharge;  but  an  arrow  tore  tlirough  his  throat,  and 
he  «eent  down  to  the  pavement  with  a  crash.  The  car  rocked 
more  and  more;  once  the  wheels  slipped  without  revolving,  as 
though  sliding  over  some  smooth  liquid  —  not  water.  Cor- 
nelia felt  powerp  of  discriminating  sensation  becoming  fainter 
and  fainter;  a  great  force  seemed  pressing  out  from  within  her; 
the  clamour  and  shocks  were  maddening.  She  felt  driven  to 
raise  her  head,  to  look  out  into  the  raging  chaos,  though  the 
first  glance  were  death.  Peering  back  out  of  the  body  of  the 
chariot  now  and  then,  she  saw  a  little.  The  Romans  were 
charging  this  way  and  that,  forcing  their  passage  down  the 
street,  barred  no  longer  by  a  mere  mob,  but  by  Achillas's 
infantrymen,  who  were  hastening  into  action.  The  chariot 
horses  were  wounded,  some  seriously;  she  was  sure  of  that. 
They  could  not  be  driven  through  the  spearmen,  and  the  little 
handful  of  cavalry  was  trying  to  break  through  the  enemy  and 
make  space  for  a  rush.  It  was  thirty  against  thousands;  yet 
even  in  the  mortal  peril,  which  Cornelia  realized  now  if  she 
had  never  before,  she  had  a  strange  sort  of  pride.  Her  coun- 
trymen were  showing  these  Orientals  how  one  Roman  could 
slay  his  tens,  could  put  in  terror  his  hundreds.  Drusus  was 
giving  orders  with  the  same  mechanical  exactitude  of  the  drill, 
albeit  his  voice  was  high-pitched  end  strained  —  not  entirely, 
perhaps,  because  of  the  need  of  calling  above  the  din. 

"Form  in  line  by  fours! " 

Cornelia  raised  her  head  above  the  chariot  frame.  The 
Romans  had  worked  their  way  down  into  a  square  formed  by 
the  intersection  of  streets.  Behind  them  and  on  every  build- 
ing were  swarming  the  people;  right  across  the  eastern  aveniie, 
where  their  escape  lay,  stood  the  bristling  files  of  one  of 
Achillas's  companies.     Stones  and  roof -tiles  were  being  tossed 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE  475 

in  a  perfect  hail  from  the  houses,  and  now  and  then  an  arrow 
or  a  dart  The  four  chariots  -one  had  only  three  horses  left 
-were  standing  in  the  little  plaza,  and  the  troopers  were 

irjl      rJ    r,   ''''  """^  ''  *^^  chariot  warriors 
made  the  mob  behind  keep  a  respectful  distance.    It  was  the 
triumph  of  discipline  over  man's  animal  sense  of  fear.     Even 
the  mob  feit  this,  when  i'.  saw  the  little  squadron  fall  into  line 
with  a^  much  precision  r.8  on  the  parade  ground.    A  tile  smote 
one  soldier  upon  the  head,  and  he  tumbled  from  his  horse  like 
a  stone.  His  comrades  never  paused  in  their  evolution.  Then, 
for  the  first  time,  Cornelia  screamed  with  horror  and  fright 
Drusus,  who  was  setting  a  new  arrow  to  his  bow,  looked  down 
upon  her;  he  had  never  seemed  so  handsome  before,  with  the 
fierce  light  of  the  battle  in  his  eyes,  with  his  wU  form 
swelling  with  the  exertions  of  conflict 

"Down,  Cornelia!"  commanded  the  officer;  and  Cornelia 
did  so  implicitly- to  disobey  him  at  that  n^oment  was 
inconceivable. 

At  them,  men!" 
-  lid  then  came  a  new  bound  from  the  horses,  and  then  a 
mighty  cra^h  and  clash  of  bodies,  blades,  and  shields,  the  snort 
of  dy,ng  beasts,  the  splintering  of  spear-shafts,  the  groans 
and  cries  of  men  m  battle  for  their  live..     The  car  rose  L  one 
wheel  higher  and  higher;  Cornelia  was  thrown  against  Fabia, 
and  the  two  women  clung  to  each  other,  too  terrified  and 
crushed  to  scream;  then  on  a  sudden  it  righted,  and  as  it  did 

bath   1       .r/l'  """^  "'"'^  ''  ^^^"°*««^  -«l«d'  ^-  face 
bathed  in  blood,  the  death-rattle  in  his  throat.    Back  he  fell 

pierced  in  face  and  breast,  and  tumbled  from  the  car;  and  as 

If  answenag  to  this  lightening  of  their  burden,  the  hoofs  of 'the 

hard-pressed  horses  bit  on  the  pavement,  and  the  team  bounded 


476 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"/o  triumphe!"  It  was  Drusus  who  called;  aud  in  answer 
to  his  shout  came  the  deep  Caesarian  battle-cry  from  hundreds 
of  throats,  "  Venus  Victrixl" 

The  chariot  was  advancing,  but  less  rapidly.  Cornelia  rose 
and  looked  forth  again,  not  this  time  to  be  rebuked,  Down 
the  moon-lighted  street  were  moving  several  infantry  cohorts 
from  the  pa^-'ce;  the  avenue  was  clear,  the  mob  and  hostile 
soldiery  had  melted  away  like  a  mist;  a  mounted  officer  came 
flying  down  the  street  ahead  of  the  legionaries. 

"The  ladies  are  safe,  Imperator!"  Drusus  was  reporting 
with  military  exactitude.     "I  have  lost  twelve  men." 

Caesar  galloped  along  beside  the  chariot.  He  had  his  horse 
under  absolute  control,  and  he  extended  his  hand,  first  to 
Fabia,  then  to  Cornelia. 

"Fortune  has  been  kind  to  us,"  said  he,  smiling. 

"Vesta  has  protected  us,"  said  Fabia,  bowing  her  head. 

Caesar  cast  a  single  inquiring,  keen  glance  at  the  Vestal. 

"Your  excellency  doubts  the  omnipotence  of  the  goddess," 
continued  she,  looking  him  steadily  in  the  face. 

"That  a  power  has  protected  you,"  was  bis  answer,  "I  am 
the  last  to  deny." 

But  the  Imperator  and  Drusus  were  exchanging  glances; 
that  a  woman  of  the  intelligence  of  Fabia  could  believe  in 
the  regular,  peiL-onal  intervention  of  the  Deity  in  human 
affairs  was  to  them,  not  an  absurdity,  but  a  mystery  un- 
fathomable. 

And  so,  safe-guarded  by  the  troops,  they  rode  back  to  the 
palace,  where  the  preparations  for  defence  were  ready,  and  all 
were  awaiting  the  onset  of  Achillas.  The  weary  men  on  the 
walls  cheered  as  the  carriages  with  their  precious  burdens 
rolled  in  at  the  gate;  and  cheered  again  for  Drusus  and  his 
eighteen  who  had  taught  the  Alexandrian  rabble  how  Roman 


BATTLING  FOE  LIFE  47, 

of  the  twel™  good  ™„  that  he  had  left  behind  _  who  aeed  not 
have  been  .acrifieed  but  for  his  headlong  rashness. 

ene,"    rI^!  T  "f  "°"°  ">  *"-"'  '"e  honse  of  Cleom- 
enes?    It  was  a  long  story,  but  in  a  few  words  probably  this 
Prat,„as  had  come  and  demanded  of  Cleomenes  that  he  Ln^n- 
der  the  lad.es  (doubtless  because  they  would  be  usef^rhos- 
teges)  t»  go  w,th  him  .0  Achillas.    Cleomenes  had  rls^ 
the  more  espee,ally  as  Cornelia  adjured  him  not  to  deliver  th^ 

away  full  of  anger  and  threatenings.     How  he  came  to  be  in 
Alexandria,  and  had  returned  so  soon  from  Achillas's  forces 

^:    Burt   h'Tr^°""'"'  ™  -'"-cleamori:™  : 
tant.    But  that  he  had  excited  the  mob  to  assail  Cleomenes's 

h.s  artful  fellow-countryman  surveying  the  riot  from  a  house- 
Z:iZ  "'  "^  -'P'-prudeutdis.nce  duTg 

So  ended  that  exciting  day,  or  rather  that  night.    It  was 
C  eopatra  who  with  her  own  hand,  laid  the  bandages  on  cT 
neha-s  wounded  shoulder,  but  the  hurt  w,as  not  serfous;  on°y 
as  Drusus  laughingly  assured  her,  it  was  an  ho„o„r.able  sca^ 

?or!::r  ''""■"^"'  ■"  "•  "^"^  "^-'-^  ^^-o" "^d 

"Ahl  deleetissime,"  replied  she,  "it  isn't  the  hurt  that 
g.ves  me  pa-n;  it  is  that  I  was  frightened  -  frightened  whe^ 
you  were  acting  like  one  of  the  Heroes ! " 

"mh«^„r'  laughed  Drusus,  before  he  left  her  to  snatch  a 
few  hours  of  well-earned  rest  .and  see  to  the  dressing  o  his 
own  bru,ses,  "I  would  not  b,a„,o  a  veteran  for  being  pLi 

weapon  and  so  keep  h.s  heart  from  standing  still." 


478 


A  FRIEND  OF  G^SAB 


n 

On  the  next  day  Achillas  moved  up  his  thousands  and 
attacked  the  palace  fortifications.  There  was  a  desperate 
struggle  in  the  streets  outside  the  royal  residence;  the  assail- 
ants were  five  to  the  defenders'  one,  and  the  mob  was  arming 
to  aid  in  the  assault;  but  the  Egyptians  soon  realized  that  it 
was  no  light  thing  to  carry  barricades  held  by  men  who  had 
fought  in  Gaul,  Britain,  Germany,  ?,pain,  Italy,  and  Greece, 
and  never  tasted  overthrow.  FitrCv^st  of  all  was  the  fight  at 
the  harbour,  where  the  navy  of  the  king  lay,  and  which,  if 
seized,  would  have  put  Caesar  at  his  enemies'  mercy.  But 
here,  also,  Roman  valour  prevailed  over  Oriental  temerity. 
All  the  ships  that  Caesar  could  not  use  were  burned.  With 
the  rest  he  sailed  over  to  the  Pharos  island,  and  landed  men 
to  make  good  the  tower  on  that  point  of  vantage.  So  ended 
the  first  round  of  battle;  and  the  initial  danger  of  being  over- 
whelmed by  sheer  force  was  over. 

But  day  after  day  of  conflict  followed.  Princess  Arsinoe 
and  Achillas  quarrelled  in  the  camp  of  the  besiegers,  and  this 
occasioned  some  respite  to  the  Romans.  Still  there  was  no 
end  to  the  fighting.  Caesar  sent  off  to  Asia  Minor,  Syria,  and 
Crete  for  reenforcements ;  but  these,  all  knew,  could  not  come 
at  once.  A  sharp  struggle  cleared  the  houses  nearest  to  the 
palace,  and  the  general  caused  them  to  be  razed  and  the  posi- 
tions thoroughly  fortified.  He  seized  the  low-lying  ground 
which  ran  as  an  insignificant  valley  down  between  the  halves 
of  the  city  and  tried  to  cut  his  enemies'  position  in  twain.  So 
the  struggle  dragged  on.  Achillas  had  been  murdered  by 
Arsinofi,  and  she  had  placed  in  command  her  governor,  the 
eunuch  Ganyraed,  avIio  was  more  dangerous  by  his  sly  craft 
than  fifty  common  generals.     One  day  a  frightened  centurion 


BATTLING   FOE  LIFE  4^ 

reported  to  CsBsar  that  all  the  cisterns  used  by  the  troops  were 
becommg  Sooded  with  sea-water.      It  was  I  eontr^^Jo" 

their  leader  could  do  to  pacify  them.  And  then  one  of  those 
strokes  o  fortune  which  will  always  come  to  a  favoured  ftw 
was  vouchsafed,  as  the  terrified  Romans  delved  in  the  eal 
where  ram  had  seldom  fallen,  lol  on  the  very  first  night  of 
the.r  to,l  fresh  water  bubbled  up,  and  all  the  tanger  was  at  an 

But  it  i,,  needless  to  tell  how  the  contest  was  waged;  how  the 
thmyseventh  legion  arrived  as  help,  ho.  the  wind  kept  Them 
off  port  exposed  to  the  enemy,  and  how  C^sar  sailed  out  and 
succoured  them,  and  worsted  the  Alc:.andrian  ships.  Then 
agam,  Ganymed  stirred  the  disheartened  citizens  to  bu  Id 
another  fieet,  and,  by  tremendous  exertions,  a  new  flotilla  are  e 

el  Hf"  "h  "!-^"'"  ""^  ^■"'  "■="  ™  »  --«'  "-'tie  fo 
ITa  f "  °"  '"'  °'°''  ^^  *=  •'^^r,  "Wle  Roman 

and  Alexandrian  stood  staring  on  the  housetops,  with  their 
hearts  beafng  quickly,  for  defeat  meant  ruin  to  the  E,,,,! 
And,  a^,„,  the  gods  of  the  waters  fought  for  Casar,  and  the 
beaton  Alexandrian  fleet  drifted  back  to  the  shelter  of  its  mole 
"■  the  harbour  „t  Eunostus. 

Next  came  a  great  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the  Pharos. 
The  fighting  was  severe,  the  footing  on  the  island  hard  to 
™,  up  steep  crags  and  rocks  swept  by  volleys  of  missilesi 
but  Italian  oourage  seemed  inexhaustible.  The  lejionarie, 
wjthout  ladders  or  fascines,  stormed  towers  and  battlZ  ts! 
Ihe  town  on  the  island  was  taken  and  the  fort  by  it,  then 

tl.e  fort  at  tho  lower  end.     On  the  next  da,  the  second  fort 
^»,  was  taken.    There  was  a  bridge  at  the  Wer  end  of  th^ 
■nole,  and  the  Alexandrians  had  tried  to  sail  under  to  attack 


480 


A  FRIEND  or  CiESAB 


the  CsBsarians  in  the  western  harbour.  The  legionaries  toiled 
to  fill  up  the  passage.  All  seemed  going  well,  but  of  a  sudden 
befell  calamity. 

Panic  will  seize  the  most  hardened  veterans,  and  so  it  was 
that  day.  A  flank  attack  from  the  Alexandrian  ships,  and  of 
other  foes  by  land,  a  sudden  giving  way  on  the  part  of  some 
sailors  who  were  defending  the  working  party,  and  then  ter- 
ror spread  among  the  three  ve'  eran  cohorts  at  the  lower  fort. 
Caesar  had  been  among  his  men  directing  the  work,  with  him 
had  gone  Drusus,  as  aide-de-camp,  and  A.gias,  who  had  long 
been  chafing  under  the  restraints  of  the  beleaguered  palace 
and  imagined  the  position  safe  and  unassailable.  The  panic 
came  more  quickly  than  words  may  tell :  a  few  hostile  shouts 
from  behind,  cries  of  fear  and  alarm,  a  volley  of  darts,  and  the 
men  who  had  hunted  the  Magnus  to  his  death  fled  like  raw 
recruits  at  their  firso  arrow. 

The  Caesarian  ships  beside  the  mole  began  to  thrust  back, 
lest  the  enemy  seize  them.  The  terrified  legionaries  rushed 
from  their  ranks,  cast  away  shield  and  cuirass,  sword  and  dart. 
Every  man  cared  but  to  save  himself,  the  spirit  of  mere  fear 
uppermost.  Caesar  and  Drusus  rushed  into  the  press,  and  com- 
manded and  exhcted;  they  might  have  better  striven  to  turn 
the  flight  of  a  herd  of  frightened  cattle;  their  words  fell  on 
deaf  ears;  the  panic-struck  soldiers  swept  them  aside  in  a  mad 
dash  to  get  on  board  the  receding  shipping.  The  danger  was 
terrible.  On  either  side  the  enemy  were  rushing  down  the 
mole,  and  over  the  defences  just  forsaken  by  the  Romans. 
Caesar  i^ad  been  caught  in  the  swirl  of  his  men  and  carried 
•along  despite  his  resistance.  He  fell,  and  Drusus,  who  strug- 
gled to  be  near  him,  ran  to  his  side. 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE 


48}. 
J  We  must  escape  Imperator! "  cried  he,  in  his  commander's 
«ar.  He  saw  that  there  was  blood  on  the  general's  face  ^d 
for  an  instant  that  thought  overpowered  all  others 

feet     "T"'''"'''"  ^''P''  ^*^"^'  ''^''''-S  '-  ^'^SSle  to  his 
leet,     "You  cannot  aid  me." 

ahead  of  the  other  enemies,  fl„„rishing  a  battle-axe.  D  d  he 
reah.e  the  pm,  that  lay  almoat  ia  hU  power?  Drusu.  had 
not  been  fighting,  bnt  his  sword  was  now  out.  SiTZ^t 
e  terr.ble  weapon  of  the  legionary  sent  the  oncomar  spraw  ! 
. ng  m  his  own  gore.  A  trifiing  respite  had  been  ^ined 
I  tosar  steadied  himself  and  looked  aLut  him.  Thef  w  ^ 
a^one  w.th  Agias  tacin,  the  foe;  the  legionaries  were'stlg 
glmg  one  over  another  .t  the  e^ge  of  the  canseway,  battlil 

::  ir  :r ""'- ''-"  -^^ '"'» «-^  --^  «^'^^ '"-"  ^ 

^r^J^^rrj'ra^Z: -^ '■» '^- -— 
It  was  only  a  trifling  distance  across  the  mole,  bnt  a  fright- 
fu  tragedy  waa  enacted  before  their  eyes  as  they  ran  The 
galley  by  the  mole  was  none  too  large,  as  •he  frightened  men 
P.led  .nto  her,  the  shifting  and  increase  eight  threw  her 
on  an  uneven  keel,  and  then  came  the  he  1  crv  of  mor 

^al^gony  bnrst  from  hundred,  of  throats  a.  the  i^capsiTed 
Drusus,  a3  he  ran,  saw,  but  for  a  twinkling,  her  deck  Mack 
with  writhing  men,  then  her  curving  sides  Id  keel   ere  all 
vanished  behind  the  embankment  of  the  mole.     tL  three 

glanced  at  h         ef  and  saw  that  he  was  very  pale,  evidently 


482 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


hurt  in  the  scuffte.     There  was  not  a  ship  within  hail,  not  a 

ship  within  two  arrow-flights;  and  all  seemed  pulling  back  as 

if  to  escape  from  the  danger. 

"Leap,  swim! "  cried  Caesar,  casting  off  his  breastplate. » 
"There  is  no  ship  within  reach,  Imperator,"  replied  the 

young  man,  gravely. 

"You  are  voung  and  strong,"  was  his  answer,  "and  will 

come  away  safe."    Caesar  was  preparing  to  spring  over  the 

edge. 

"  And  you?  "  cried  Drusus,  catching  him  by  the  wrist.     He 
knew  that  Caesar  could  never  swim  the  distance  to  the  nearest 

ship. 

"In  the  hands  of  the  Fates." 

But  Agias,  whose  eyes  had  been  straining  out  into  the 
western  harbour,  cried,  " Help !    A  galley  is  coming! " 

"Imperator,"  said  Drusus,  "you  must  wait  for  this  galley.' 

The  foe  were  almost  on  them. 

"  Are  you  mad?  "  was  the  exclamation  of  the  general. 

"I  can  hold  them  off  until  it  is  safe  to  swim,"  and  Drusus 
had  covered  himself  behind  a  coping  in  the  masonry. 

Caesar  measured  the  distance  with  his  eye. 

"We  play  at  dice  with  Fortuna,  whatever  we  do,"  was  his 
comment.  "Come,  then."  And  the  three  steadied  themselves 
on  the  narrow  footing  behind  the  parapet,  one  thrust  being 
enough  to  send  them  headlong.  Fortunately  weapons  were 
ready  — thrown  away  by  the  luckless  fugitives.  When  the 
Alexandrians  rushed  up,  three  pila  crashed  in  upon  them,  and, 
caught  unawares  by  the  little  volley,  they  held  back  an  instant. 
The  three  desperate  men  were  counting  their  hearts'  beats, 
while  the  distance  from  the  friendly  galley  lessened.  Then 
the  rush  came,  but  it  was  met,  and,  narrow  as  was  the  ledge, 

1  Lorica. 


Bi 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE  4^^ 

waa  f„^,  iard.  «.  .hat  anoLr  ;:";:;  sTC 

reeimg  back  and  there  was  more  breathing  time.  The  Ale.- 
amlr,an,  had  received  a  b«te  of  .he.e  Roman  blades^d  .he. 
d.d  no.  enjoy  it.  Stripping  .he  dead  and  pickingup  ll^Z 
wa.  more  proftable  than  bearding  the  three  lionf  The  '"w 

^rstTai-r^LX'"'""'"^— -- 

"They  will  give  us  time  to  escape,  Imperator." 

my.     There  was  a  new  face  among  the  little  band  immedi- 
ately opposed  to  them  -  Pratinas. 

prc^::t:rr:o:e-;-^^^^^^ 

"  At  them ! "  cried  the  Hellene.     "  A  thousand  drachmas  to 
the^man  who  brings  the  middle  Roman  downl " 

The  ''middle  Roman"  was  C^sar.     The  enemy  came  on 
again,  this  time  some  springing  over  the  parapet  to  rmia  W 
he  na^ow  outer  platform  and  attack  from  eiC  aid       B  ^ 
the  galley  was  still  nearer. 

"Throw  off  your  armour  and  leaD'"    It  ^«c.  r. 
commanded  no.,  and  C».ar  who  oS.'^d.   V.l^^Z  ^t" 
off  h«  greavee  and  helmet,  canght  his  general-s  iTiX 


484 


A  FRIEND  OF  CMSXR 


teeth,  that  it  might  not  fall  as  a  trophy  to  the  foe,  and  sprang 
down  into  the  waves ;  it  was  all  done  in  a  twinkling.     But, 
quick  as  the  leap  had  been,  it  was  but  just  in  time.     A  rush 
of  irresistible  numbers  carried  Drusus  off  of  his  feet,  and  he 
fell  also  — but  fell  in  all  his  armour.     It  was  an  instant  too 
crowded  for  sensations.     He  just  realized  that  his  helmet 
tumbled  from  his  head  as  he  fell  backward.     The  weight  of 
his  greaves  righted  him  while  he  was  in  the  air.     He  struck 
the  water  with  his  feet.    There  was  a  chilling  shock ;  and  then, 
AS  he  went  down,  the  shield  on  his  left  arm  caught  the  water 
in  its  hollow  and  bore  him  upward.     Nature  reasserted  itself; 
by  a  mighty  tug  at  the  straps  he  wrenched  away  his  breast- 
plate, and  could  make  shift  to  float.     The  short  harbour 
waves  lifted  him,  and  he  saw  Caesar  striking  out  boldly  toward 
the  now  rapidly  approaching  gallej.      Even  as  the  general 
Bwam,  Drusus  observed  that  he  held  up  a  package  of  papyri  in 
his  left  hand  to  keep  it  out  of  the  wet;  in  uttermost  perils 
Caesar  could  not  forget  his  books.     But  while  the  young  man 
gazed  seaward,  shook  the  water  from  his  eyes,  and  struck  out 
to  reach  the  friendly  galley,  groans  and  shouts  arose  from  the 
waters  near  beside  him.     A  voice  —  Agias's  voice  —  was  call- 
ing-out  for  help.    The  sound  of  his  freedman's  cries  drove  the 
Roman  to  action.     Twice  the  waves  lifted  him,  and  he  saw- 
nothing;  but  at  the  third  time  he  lit  on  two  forms  clinging  to 
a  bit  of  wreckage,  and  yet  struggling  together.     A  few  power- 
ful strokes  sent  him  beside  them,   and,   to   his  unutterable 
astonishment,  he  beheld  in  the  person  who  was  battling  with 
Agias  for  possession  of  the  float  none  other  than  Pratinas. 
There  are  times  when  nothing  has  opportunity  to  appear  won- 
derful.    This  moment  was  one  of  these.     Actions,  not  words, 
were  wai  ted.     The  elder  Greek  had  made  shift  to  draw  a 
dagger,  and  was  making  a  vicious  effort  to  stab  the  other,  who 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE 


485 

along.;/,  .t  w^aee  17  r'  f  ™™''  «»'  ^  '^  »-«^'l 

fast  o»eLp,a„t„'^:;.htr.r  The  ''"  "'"'  *"""■"" 
ming  from  the  enemy  „n  TetoL  .^f  "7"  S'""' »''<»' 
water  beside  the  fugitLs  ■  b^tTlt'  v!  V"'*^  'P^'  »  *« 
galley  the  AU^JZ^^l'l^' T:!  T  Tr''-^ 
.warming  archers  and  slioLs  aTh,  .        d'cks  ;.ere 

already  working  havoc    The'   ^    f" '"'"■"''"  l-allishewere 

grew  iweraslherept  up  to'th  r  "^  "'  ""  """^  »'  -" 
of  white  spray  c,  rSr™,  d  ''"  Z"'""""' ,""  ^^'^*  ~'™» 
drifted  pasf  thL  a  Jat  si:  or'^  T.^t.Tn"'"'  ''" 
standing  on  her  deck  an,)  tl,.       ,  "  ''''"™^  "as 

nas,  stiU  feej;  «s  sC  aid  A "  ?"  *""'"«  ""  P™"" 
Icss  with  his  wours  o;  I  '"^n  ""'°  ™  """^  ^■"'  '""l" 
a  seaman  of  -^^nt^p^r^ L^rsTt::?  7 '"'" 
.n^th^eImperatorthathisvesse,.dcrerrettr;::::;:; 

III 

The  boats  of  the  rescuer  were  pulling  ahni,f  foi,- 
few  Romans  as  had  been  able  J^e^^lt"^  "'  "^' 

the  like  of  which  he  had  never  drunk  beft     senTrthrnH 
remvigorated  life  through  his  veins     Wl     T'  f  °* 

the  deck  hP  fnnn^  r.  T  ^  '^'^  ^^  ^^"^^  back  upon 

ingl  till  I         ^^^^'-P-l^^  yet,  as  ever,  active  and  untir- 
mg-still  conversing  with  the  captain  of  the  vessel.     iLe 


486 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


Imperator  had  a  bandage  drawn  across  his  forehead,  but  other 
wise  he  seemed  none  the  worse  for  his  recent  danger.  The 
galley,  under  a  swinging  oar,  was  pulling  back  across  the 
"Great  Harbour"  to  the  palace  quay.  The  battle  was  over; 
four  hundred  good  Roman  lives  had  been  lost,  but  the  disaster 
had  not  entailed  any  serious  compromise  of  Caesar's  position. 
There  was  no  need  of  continuing  at  the  Pharos,  and  it  was  well 
to  assure  the  anxious  garrison  at  the  palace -fortress  that  their 
general  was  safe  and  sound. 

Drusus,  as  the  one  thing  natural  under  the  circumstances, 
went  to  the  captain  of  his  rescuers  to  express,  his  obligation 
and  gratitude. 

"This  is  Quintus  Livius  Drusus,"  said  Caesar,  good- 
naturedly,  already  at  his  ease,  to  the  strange  commander, 
"  who  serves  on  my  staff.  In  saving  him  I  owe  you  a  debt, 
O  Demetrius,  in  addition  to  my  own  rescue." 
The  stranger  caught  Drusus  by  both  hands. 
"Are  you  indeed  the  son  of  Sextus  Drusus  of  Praeneste?" 
he  questioned  with  eagerness. 

"Assuredly,  my  good  sir,"  replied  the  young  Roman,  a  bit 
confused  at  the  other's  impetuosity. 

"  And  did  your  father  never  tell  you  of  a  certain  Demetrius, 
a  Greek,  who  was  his  friend?  " 

"He  did;  this  Demetrius  was  cast  into  prison  and  con- 
demned by  Pompeius;  my  father  secured  his  escape;"  and 
Drusus  hesitated.  His  mind  had  worked  rapidly,  and  he 
could  jump  at  a  conclusion. 

"Say  it  out,  your  excellency,"  pressed  the  seaman. 

"He  became  a  pirate,  though  my  father  did  not  blame  him 

overmuch." 

"Eul"  interrupted  Caesar,  as  if  to  prevent  a  moment  of 
awkwardness.     "  Before  King  Minos's  days  nothing  was  more 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE 


487 


I  have  known  some  excellent  men  who  were 


honourable, 
pirates." 

knees  and  kissed  the  feet  of  Drusus. 

Mi'ihrt r  ''  ""'  '""""•     '  '^^^  ^^^^^  ^^'"•'    ^---  *o 
After  this,  the.      -as  no  longer  any  constraint  on  the  part 

lld7«  V  1.     ^"'  ''^'  ^^^^^^^^^  ^^'-  ^"  --  -fe 

han  wh  rr.  r"''  "'"'''  ''^""^  *^«  P^-*«  <^^i«f  into  the 
hall  where  he  had  been  banqueting  witli  Cleopatra,  Fabia,  and 

Corneha  and  h.s  favourite  officers,  and  asked  for  an  account 

tlul^  \  n  ''T^'  '°°"^^  '*"'^  ''  ''^'  Demetrius  had  to 
tell  though  Corneha  had  heard  it  before;  of  two  voyages  to 
wealthy  Taprobane,>  one  as  far  as  the  Golden  Chersonesos' 

Pnr  'f  "-^  'f  '^'^''  '^"^^  °^  ^«^'^«-  -'^  ^^^onHhe 
FiUars  of  .  ercules  into  the  Sea  of  Darkness,  _  every  where 
that  keel  of  ship  had  ploughed  within  the  memory  o f  Z 

And  the  men  that  drove  you  to  freebooting?  "  asked  C^sar, 
when  the  company  had  ceased  applauding  this  recital,  which 
chlrming  '  ^''''  ^  spontaneous  elegance  that  ^ade  it 

"I  have  said  that  they  were  Lucius  Domitius,  whom  the 
gods  have  rewarded,  and  a  certain  Greek." 

"  The  Greek's  name  was " 

"Kyrios,"  said  Demetrius,  his  fine  features  contracting  with 
oain  and  di.gust,  "  I  do  not  willingly  mention  his  name  He 
has  done  me  so  great  a  wrong,  that  I  only  breathe  his  name 
with  a  curse.  Must  you  know  who  it  was  that  took  my  child 
my  Daphne,  -though  proof  I  have  not  against  him,  but  only' 
tue  warnings  of  an  angry  heart  ?  " 

"But  he  was  —  "  pressed  Csesar. 

^^^y'""-  'Malay  Peninsula. 


488 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


"Menon."  And  as  he  spoke  he  hissed  the  words  between 
his  teeth.  "He  is  one  knave  among  ten  thousand.  Why 
burden  your  excellency  with  remembering  him?" 

So  the  conversation  went  on,  and  Caesar  told  how  he  had 
been  taken  prisoner,  when  a  young  man,  by  pirates  near 
Rhoc  -s,  and  how  he  had  been  kept  captive  by  them  on  a  little 
isle  while  his  ransom  was  coming. 

"Ah!"  interrupted  Demetrius,  "I  have  heard  the  whole 
tale  from  one  of  my  men  who  was  there.  You,  kyrios, 
behaved  like  a  prince.  You  bade  your  captors  take  fifty 
talents  instead  of  twenty,  as  they  asked,  and  wrote  verses  and 
declaimed  to  your  guards  all  the  time  you  were  awaiting  the 
money,  and  joined  in  all  their  sports;  howbeit,  you  kept 
telling  them  that  yc^'  "ould  crucify  them  all  for  the  matter." 
« Hem  I "  laugheu  Caesar.  "  Didn't  I  make  good  the 
threat?" 

"  You  did  with  all  save  this  man,  who  got  away,"  was  his 
unflinching  answer.  "Although  in  mercy  you  strangieu  .Jl 
your  captors  before  you  had  them  put  on  the  crosses." 

"Hei!"  quoth  the  Imperator.  "I  should  have  spared 
them  to  give  me  criticism  of  those  verses  now." 

"Kyrios,"  rejoined  Demetrius,  "the  man  who  survived 
assures  me  that  the  verses  at  least  were  wretched,  though 
your  excellency  was  a  very  good  wrestler." 

"  Euge !  Bravo ! "  cried  Caesar,  and  all  the  company  joined 
in.  "  I  must  take  a  few  of  your  men  back  to  Rome,  for  we 
need  critics  for  our  rough  Latin  versifiers." 

Drusus,  as  soon  as  the  laugh  passed  away,  arose,  and 
addressed  his  chief :  — 

« Imperator,"  he  said,  "  Agias  this  morning  dragged  from  of! 
the  mole  with  him  into  the  water  one  of  the  most  dangerous 
men  in  the  councils  of  our  enemies.    I  mean,  as  you  know 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE  439 

^tinas  the  Greek.  He  i,  now  in  the  palace  prison,  bu*. 
every  one  .s  aware  that,  so  long  as  he  so  much  Js  Uves  we 
are  hardly  safe.    What  shall  be  done  ?  "  ' 

Cssar  frowned. 

"This  i,  hardly  >  basilica  for  a  trial,"  he  replied   -'tot 

Brusus  went  out  to  give  the  necessary  orders 

nllr  *^'\''°'  ''"  "^^^''^  P"^^'^^^?"  asked  Cornelia  of 
Demetnus,  who  was  now  an  old  friend. 

« I  did  not,"  answered  the  pirate  prince,  pouring  down  the 

contents  of  a  prodigious  beaker  at  a  single  draught.     «  A  very 

desperate  man,  I  imagine.    But  it  is  hard  for  me  to  blame 

any  one  so  long  as  he  fights  openly.    Still,"  he  added,  with  a 

augh    «l  mustn't    express  such  sentiments,  now  that  his 

excellency  has  given  me  this."    And  he  tossed  over  to  Cor- 

neha  a  httle  .oil,  tiny  but  preo.ous,  for  it  was  a  general 

pardon  m  the  name  of  the  Kepublic,  for  all  past  offences, 

by  land  or  sea,  against   the  peace.      ^^ BaM!''    continued 

Demetrius,  lohing  back  his  ?reat  length  on  the  couch,  "who 

wou  d  have  imagined  that  I,  just  returning  from  a  mere  voy- 

age  to  Delos  to  get  rid  of  some  slaves,  should  save  the  lives 

of  my  cousin,  my  benefactor's  son,  and  C^sar  himself,  and 

become  once  more  an  honest  man.     Gods!  gods!  avert  the 

misfortunes  that  come  from  too  much  good  fortune  '" 

"Was  Agias  badly  wounded?"  asked  Cornelia,  wit)  some 
concern. 

"Oh,"  replied  his  cousin,  "he  will  do  well.  If  his  precious 
captive  had  thrust  his  dagger  a  bit  deeper,  we  might  have  a 
sorry  time  explaining  it  all  to  that  pretty  little  girl -Arte- 
misia  he  calls  her -whom  he  dotes  upon.     By  the  bye" 


490 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


.^ 


continued  Demetrius,  as  entirely  at  his  ease  in  the  company 
as  though  he  had  been  one  of  ine  world's  high-born  and 
mighty,  "can  your  ladyship  tell  me  where  Artemisia  is  just 
now  ?    She  was  a  very  attractive  child." 

"  Assuredly,"  said  Cornelia.  "  She  is  here  in  the  palace, 
very  anxious,  I  doubt  not,  about  Agias.  Come,  I  will  send 
for  her.     You  shall  tell  her  all  about  his  escape." 

Demetrius  appeared  pleased,  and  Cornelia  whispered  to  a 
serving-lad,  who  immediately  went  out. 

The  tramp  of  heavy  feet  sounded  on  the  mosaics  outside 
the  banqueting  room;  the  tapestry  over  the  doorway  was 
thrust  aside,  and  in  the  dim  lamplight  —  for  it  had  long  been 

dark two  rigid  soldiers  in  armour  could  be  seen,  standing  at 

atte-  Drusus  stepped  past  them,  and  saluted. 

*  risoner  is  here,  Imperator,"  he  said. 

«  Li.iig  him  in,"  replied  Caesar,  laying  down  his  wine-cup. 

The  curtain  swayed  again,  and  the  rest  of  a  decuria  of 
troops  entered.  In  their  centre  was  a  figure  whose  manacles 
were  clinking  ominously.  In  the  uncertain  light  it  was  only 
possible  to  see  that  the  prisoner  was  bent  and  shivering  with 
fright.     The  general  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  disgust. 

«  This  is  the  sort  of  creature,  Drusus,''  quoth  he,  derisively, 
"  that  is  so  dangerous  that  we  must  despatch  him  at  once  ? 
Phui!    Let  him  stand  forth.     I  suppose  he  can  still  speak  ?" 

Pratinas  made  a  pitiable  picture.  The  scuffle  and  wetting 
had  done  little  benefit  to  his  clothes ;  his  armour  the  pirates 
had  long  since  appropriated;  his  hair,  rather  long  through 
affectation,  hung  in  disorder  around  his  neck.  He  had  shaved 
off  his  "  philosopher's  "  beard,  and  his  smooth  cheeks  showed 
ugly  scratches.  He  was  as  pale  as  white  linen,  and  quaking 
like  a  blade  of  grass  in  the  wind,  the  very  antithesis  of  the 
splendid  Ares  of  the  fight  on  the  mole. 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE  491 

"Your  name  is  Pratinas  ?  »  began  C^sar,  with  the  snappish 
energy  of  a  man  who  ^b^^h^.^,,  a  disagreeable  formality 

"Yes,  despotes,"  be;  an  the  other,  ueekly;  but  as  he  did  so 
he  raised  his  head,  anc  tlr.  rays  of  oae  of  the  great  candelabra 
fell  full  on  his  face.  In  a  tw.uLlLnn  a  shout,  or  rather  a  scream, 
had  broken  from  Demetrius.  The  pirate  had  leaped  from  his 
couch,  and,  with  straining  frame  and  dilated  eyes,  sprang 
between  the  prisoner  and  his  judge. 

«  Menon !  »  The  word  smote  on  the  captive  like  the  missile 
of  a  catapult.  He  reeled  back,  almost  to  falling;  his  eyes 
closed  involuntarily.  His  face  had  been  pale  before,  now  it 
was  swollen,  as  with  the  sight  of  a  horror. 

"Demetnus!"  and  at  this  counter  exclamation,  the  cornered 
man  burst  into  a  howl  of  animal  fear.  And  well  he  might  for 
Demetrius  had  sprung  upon  him  as  a  tiger  upon  an  antelope. 
One  of  the  guards  indiscreetly  interposed,  and  a  stroke  of  the 
pirate's  fist  sent  the  soldier  sprawling.  Demetrius  caught  his 
victim  around  the  body,  and  crushed  the  wretched  man  in 
beneath  his  grasp.  The  pseudc^Pratiuas  did  not  cry  out  twice 
He  had  no  breath.  Demetrius  tore  him  off  of  his  feet  and 
shook  him  in  mid-air. 

«  Daphne !  Daphne ! »  thundered  the  awful  pirate ;  "  speak- 
er by  the  infernal  gods  —  " 

"Put  him  down  !"  shouted  Caesar  and  Drusus.    They  were 
almost  appealing  to  an  unchained  lion  roaring  over  his  prey 
Drusus  caught  one  of  Demetrius's  arms,  and  with  all  his 
strength  tore  it  from  its  grasp. 

"The  man  cannot  say  a  word!  you  are  choking  him,"  he 
cried  in  the  pirate's  ear. 

Demetrius  relaxed  his  mighty  grip.  Pratinas,  for  so  we  still 
call  him,  leaned  back  against  one  of  the  soldiers,  panting  and 
gasping.    Drusus  took  his  assailant  by  the  arm,  and  led  him 


492 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR 


back  to  a  seat.    Caesar  sat  waiting  until  the  prisoner  could 
speak. 

"Pratinas,"  said  the  Imperator,  sternly,  "as  you  hope  for 
an  easy  death  or  a  hard  one,  tell  this  man  the  truth  about  his 
daughter." 

Pratinas  drew  himself-  together  by  a  mighty  effort.  For  an 
instant  he  was  the  former  easy,  elegant,  versatile  Hellene. 
When  he  answered  it  was  with  the  ring  of  triumph  and 
defiance. 

"  Imperator,  it  would  be  easy  to  tell  a  lie,  for  there  is  no 
means  of  proof  at  hand.  This  man,"  with  a  derisive  glance 
at  his  enemy, "  says  that  I  know  something  about  his  daughter. 
Doubtless,  though,  since  he  has  pursued  for  recent  years  so 
noble  an  avocation,  it  were  more  grateful  if  he  thanked  me  for 
caring  for  the  deserted  girl.  Well,  I  kept  her  until  she  was 
sufficiently  old,  and  then  —  for  I  was  at  the  time  quite  poor  — 
disposed  of  her  to  a  dealer  at  Antioch,  who  was  planning  to 
take  a  slave  caravan  to  Seleucia.  My  good  friend  probably 
will  find  his  daughter  in  some  Parthian  harem,  unless  — " 

Cornelia  had  arisen  and  was  whispering  to  Drusus;  the 
latter  turned  and  held  the  raging  pirate  in  his  seat.  Pratinas 
had  made  of  every  word  a  venomed  arrow,  and  each  and  all 
struck  home.  The  workings  of  Demetrius's  face  were  frightful, 
the  beads  of  agony  stood  on  his  brows,  —  doubtless  he  had 
always  feared  nothi:  ig  less, — the  certainty  was  awful.  Cornel  ia 
looked  upon  him  half-anxious,  yet  serene  and  smiling.  Drusus, 
too,  seemed  composed  and  expectant.  The  Imperator  gazed 
straight  before  him,  his  eyes  searching  the  prisoner  through 
and  through,  and  under  the  glance  the  Greek  again  showed 
signs  of  fear  and  nervousness. 

The  curtain  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  hall  rustled,  Cornelia 
rose  and  walked  to  the  doorway,  and  returned,  leading  Arte- 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE 


493 


misia  by  the  hand.  The  girl  was  dressed  in  a  pure  white 
chiton;  her  thick  hair  was  bound  back  with  a  white  fillet,  but 
in  the  midst  of  its  mass  shone  a  single  golden  crescent  studded 
with  little  gems.  She  came  with  shy  steps  and  downcast  eyes  — 
abashed  before  so  many  strangers;  and,  as  she  came,  all  gazed 
at  her  in  admiration,  not  as  upon  the  bright  beauty  of  a  rose, 
but  the  perfect  sweetness  of  a  modest  lily.  Cornelia  led  her 
on,  until  they  stood  before  the  prisoner. 

"Artemisia,"  said  Cornelia,  in  a  low  voice,  "have  you  ever 
seen  this  man  before  ?  " 

Artemisia  raised  her  eyes,  and,  as  they  lit  on  Pratinas,  there 
was  in  them  a  gleam  of  wonder,  then  of  fear,  and  she  shrank 
back  in  dread,  so  that  Cornelia  threw  her  arm  about  her  to 
comfort  her. 

"Af  A!"  and  the  girl  began  to  cry.  "Has  he  found  me? 
Will  he  take  me  ?    Pity !  mercy !  Pratinas ! " 

But  no  one  had  pa^-^  >.er  any  more  attention.  It  was  Caesar 
who  had  sprung  fr-  ^eat 

"Wretch!"  and  hi;  <  ...ble  eyes  burned  into  Pratinas's  guilty 
breaat,  so  that  he  v^rithed,  and  held  down  his  head,  and  began 
to  mutter  words  inaudible.  "Can  you  tell  the  truth  to  save 
yourself  the  most  horrible  tortures  human  wit  can  devise  ?  " 

But  Pratinas  had  nothing  to  say. 

Again  Demetrius  leaped  upon  him.  The  pirate  was  a  frantic 
animal.  His  fingers  moved  as  though  they  were  claws  to  pluck 
the  truth  from  the  offender's  heart.  He  hissed  his  question 
I    <ween  teeth  that  ground  together  in  frerzy. 

"  How  did  you  get  her  ?    Where  from  ?    When  ?  " 

Pratinas  choked  for  utterance. 

"Artemisia!  Daphne!  Yours!  I  lost  her  I  Ran  away  at 
Rome ! " 

The  words  shook  out  of  him  like  water  from  a  well-filied 


494 


A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAB 


flask.  Demetrius  relaxed  his  hold.  A  whole  flood  of  conflict- 
ing  emotions  was  displayed  upon  his  manly  face.  He  turned 
to  Artemisia. 

"Makaira!  dearest !  don't  you  know  me  ?  "  he  cried,  holding 
outstretched  his  mighty  arms. 

"I  am  afraid! "  sobbed  poor  Artemisia  in  dismay. 

"  Come ! "  It  was  Cornelia  who  spoke ;  and,  with  the  daugh- 
ter crying  softly  on  one  arm,  and  the  father  dragged  along  in  a. 
confused  state  of  ecstasy  on  the  other,  she  V  them  both  out 
of  the  room. 

Pratinas  was  on  his  knees  before  Caesar.  The  Hellene  was 
again  eloquent  —  eloquent  as  never  before.  In  the  hour  of 
extremity  his  sophistry  and  his  rhetoric  did  not  leave  him. 
His  antitheses,  epigrams,  well-rounded  maxims,  figures  of 
speech,  never  were  at  a  better  command.  For  a  time,  charmed 
by  the  flow  of  his  own  language,  he  gathered  strength  and  con- 
fidence, and  launched  out  into  bolder  flights  of  subtly  wrought 
rhetoric.  He  excused,  explained  away  each  fault,  vivified 
and  magnified  a  hundred  non-ex 'stent  virtues,  reared  a  splen- 
did word-fabric  in  praise  of  clemency.  To  what  end  ?  Before 
him  sat  Caesar,  and  Drusus,  and  a  dozen  Romans  more,  who, 
with  cold,  unmoved  Italian  faces,  listened  to  his  artificial  elo- 
quence, and  gave  no  sign  of  pity.  And  as  he  went  on,  the 
sense  of  his  hopeless  position  overcame  the  wretched  man,  and 
his  skill  began  to  leave  him.  He  became  thick  and  confused 
of  speech ;  his  periods  tripped ;  his  thought  moved  backward. 
Then  his  supple  tongue  failed  him  utterly,  and,  in  cries  and 
incoherent  groans,  he  pleaded  for  the  right  to  exist. 

"  Man,"  said  the  Imperator,  when  the  storm  of  prayers  and 
moans  was  over,  "you  conspired  against  Quintus  Drusus,  my 
friend.  You  failed  —  that  is  forgiven.  You  conspired,  I  have 
cause  to  believe,  against  Pompeius,  my  enemy,  but  a  Roman 


BATTLING  FOR  LIFE  495 

—  that  is  unproved,  and  therefore  forgiven.  You  conspired 
with  Pothinus  against  me  — that  was  an  offence  touching  me 
alone,  and  so  that,  too,  may  be  forgiven.  But  to  the  prayers  of 
a  father  you  had  wronged,  you  answered  so  that  you  might 
gloat  over  his  pain.  Therefore  you  shall  die  and  not  live. 
Take  him  away,  guards,  and  strike  off  his  head,  for  his  body  is 
too  vile  to  nail  to  any  cross." 

The  taxie  of  the  Greek  was  livid.  He  raised  his  manacled 
hands,  and  strained  at  the  irons  in  sheer  despair.  The  sol- 
diers  caught  him  roughly  to  hale  him  away. 

'•Mercy!  kyrios !  kyrios ! »  he  shrieked.  "Spare  me  the 
torments  of  Hades!  The  Furies  will  pursue  me  forever' 
Pity !     Mercy  ! " 

Cornelia  had  reentered  the  room,  and  saw  this  last  scene. 

"When  my  uncle  and  Aheuobarbus  were  nigh  their  deaths," 
she  said  stingingly,  « this  man  observed  that  often,  in  times 
of  mortal  peril,  skeptics  call  on  the  gods." 

"The  rule  is  proved,"  said  Caesar,  casting  a  cynical  smile 
after  the  soldiers  with  their  victim.  "All  men  need  gods, 
either  to  worship  when  they  live,  or  to  dread  when  they  die."' 


CHAPTER  XXV 


CALM  AFTEB  STOBM 


Like  all  human  things,  the  ^ar  ended.  The  Alexandrians 
might  rage  and  dash  their  numbers  against  the  palace  walls. 
Ganymed  and  young  Ptolemaeus,  who  had  gone  out  to  him, 
pressed  the  siege,  but  all  in  vain.  And  help  came  to  the  hard- 
pressed  Eomans  at  last.  Mithridates,  a  faithful  vassal  king, 
advanced  his  army  over  Syria,  and  came  down  into  the  Delta, 
sweeping  all  before  him.  Then  Caesar  effected  a  junction  with 
the  forces  of  his  ally,  and  there  was  one  pitched  battle  on  the 
banks  of  the  Nile,  where  Ptolemaeus  was  defeated,  and  drowned 
in  his  flight.  Less  than  a  month  later  Alexandria  capitulated, 
and  saw  the  hated  consular  insignia  again  within  her  gates. 
There  was  work  to  do  in  Egypt,  and  Caesar  — just  named 
dictator  at  Rome  and  consul  for  five  years  —  devoted  himself 
to  the  task  of  reform  and  reorganization.  Cleopatra  was  to  be 
set  back  upon  her  throne,  and  her  younger  brother,  another 
Ptolemaeus,  wm  to  be  her  colleague.  So  out  of  war  came 
peace,  and  the  great  Imperator  gave  laws  to  yet  another 
kingdom. 

But  before  Caesar  sailed  away  to  chastise  Fharnaces  of 
Pontus,  and  close  up  his  work  in  the  East,  ere  returning  to 
break  down  the  stand  of  the  desperate  Pompeians  in  Africa, 
there  was  joy  and  high  festival  in  the  palace  of  Alexandria  j 

496 


CALM  AFTER  STORM  497 

and  all  the  noble  and  great  of  the  capital  were  ac  the  feast  _ 
the  wedding  feast  of  Cornelia  and  the  favourite  staif  officer  of 
the  Imperator.  The  soft  warm  air  of  the  Egyptian  springtime 
blew  over  the  festoons  of  flower  and  over  the  carpets  of  blos- 
soms; never  before  .7as  the  music  more  sweet  and  joyous 
And  overhead  hung  the  great  ligh1>laden  dome  of  the  glowing 
azure,  where  the  storks  were  drifting  northward  with  the 
northward  march  of  the  sun. 

And  they  sang  the  bridal  hymns,  both  Greek  and  Latin,  and 
cried  "Hymen"  and  "Talasio";  and  when  evening  came, 

"  The  torches  tossed  their  tresses  of  flame," 

as  said  the  marriage  song  of  Catullus;  and  underneath  the 
yellow  veU  of  the  bride  gleamed  forth  the  great  diamond 
necklace,  the  gift  of  Cleopatra,  which  once  had  been  the  joy 
of  some  Persian  princess  before  the  Greeks  took  the  hoard 
at  Persepolis. 

Agias  was  there;  and  Cleomenes  and  his  daughters;  and 
Demetrius,  with  Artemisia,  the  most  beautiful  of  girls,  — as 
Cornelia  was  the  fairest  of  women,  —  clinging  fondly  to  her 
father's  side.  So  there  was  joy  that  day  and  night  at  the 
Alexandrian  palace.  And  on  the  next  morning  tha  fleet  tri 
reme  was  ready  which  Demetrius  had  provided  to  bear  Drusus 
and  Cornelia  and  Fabia  back  to  Italy.  Many  were  the  part> 
ings  at  the  royal  quay,  and  Agias  wept  when  he  said  farewell 
to  his  late  patron  and  patroness;  but  he  had  some  comfort, 
for  his  cousin  (who  had  arranged  with  Cleomenes  that,  since 
his  freebooting  days  were  happily  over,  the  two  should  join 
in  a  partnership  for  the  India  trade)  had  made  him  a  promise 
to  be  fulfilled  in  due  course  of  time  — for  Artemisia  was  stUl 
very  young. 

"You  are  no  Ichomachus,  Xenophon's  perfect  wife^duca 
2k 


498 


TEND  OF  CiESAR 


tor,"  the  ex-pirate  h       said  to  his  importunate  cousin ;  "  wait 
a  few  years." 

And  Agias  was  fain  to  be  content,  with  this  hope  before 
him. 

There  were  other  partings  than  his ;  but  at  last  the  adieus 
were  over,  and  all  save  Caesar  went  back  upon  the  quay.  The 
Imperator  alone  tarried  on  the  poop  of  the  vessel  for  an  instant. 
His  features  were  half  wistful  as  he  held  Drusus  by  the  hand, 
but  his  eyes  were  kindly  as  ever  to  the  young  man. 

"  Ah,  amice ! "  he  said,  "  we  who  play  at  philosophy  may 
not  know  all  the  time  that  there  are  gods,  but  at  all  times  we 
know  that  there  is  the  most  godlike  of  divine  attributes — love 
undefiled.  Therefore  let  us  hope,  for  we  see  little,  and  the 
cosmos  is  past  finding  out." 

He  sprang  back  on  to  the  quay.  The  musicians  on  the  bow 
struck  up  with  pipe  and  lyre ;  the  friends  on  the  pier  flung 
aboard  the  last  garlands  of  rose  and  lily  and  scented  thyme ; 
the  rowers  bent  to  their  task ;  the  one  hundred  and  seventy 
blades  —  pumiced  white  —  smote  the  yellow  waves  of  the 
harbour,  and  the  ship  sped  away.  Cornelia,  Fabia,  and  Drusus 
stood  on  the  poop  gazing  toward  the  receding  quay.  Long 
after  they  had  ceased  to  recognize  forms  and  faces  they  stared 
backward,  until  the  pier  itself  was  a  speck,  and  the  great 
buildings  of  the  city  grew  dim.  Then  they  passed  the  Pharos, 
and  the  land  dwindled  more  and  more  intc  a  narrow,  dark 
ribbon  betwixt  blue  water  and  bluer  sky.  The  long  swells 
of  the  open  sea  caught  the  trireme,  and  she  rode  gallantly 
over  them  —  -v/hile  the  music  still  played,  and  her  hardy 
crew,  pirates  no  longer,  but  pardoned  men, — seamen,  employees 
of  the  honest  merchant  Demetrius, — sent  the  good  ship  bound- 
ing faster  and  faster,  as  they  pressed  their  strength  against 
the  springing  oars.    Higher  and  higher  rose  the  column  of 


CALM  AFTEE  STORM  499 

foam  around  the  cutwater;  louder  and  louder  sang  the  foam 
under  the  stern,  as  they  swept  it  past.    The  distant  land 
faded  to  a  thread,  to  a  line,  was  gone;  and  to  north  and  south 
and  east  and  west  were  but  the  water  and  the  cloudless  ether 
Fabia,  Cornelia,  and  Drusus  said  little  for  a  long  time.     Their 
eyes  wandered,  sometimes,  over  the  track  of  the  foam,  and  in 
their  minds  they  saw  again  the  water-birds  plashing  among 
lotus  plants,  and  heard  the  ancient  Egyptian  litanies  softly 
chanted  behind  the  propylons  of  a  temple  built  by  some  king 
two  thousand  years   departed.      But  oftener  their  eyes   ran 
ahead  over  the  prow,  and  tliey  walked  again  across  the  Forum 
of  the  city  of  their  fathers,  and  drove  across  the  Latin  plain- 
land,  and  spoke  their  own  dear,  sonorous,  yet  half-polished 
native  tongue. 

At  last  came  evening;  the  sun  .«»ank  lower  and  lower;  now 
his  broad  red  disk  hung  over  the  crest  of  the  western  waves; 
now  it  touched  them;  now  it  was  gone,  and  only  the  lines  of 
dying  fire  streamed  behind  him -the  last  runners  in  his 
chariot  train.  Up  from  the  ca^'u  below  came  the  voice  of  the 
ship's  steward,  "Would  theii  excellencies  take  any  refresh- 
ment? "  But  they  did  not  ^^0  at  once.  They  watched  the  fire 
grow  dimmer  and  dimmer,  the  pure  light  change  to  red  gold, 
the  red  gold  to  crimson,  and  the  crimson  sink  away. 

"Ah,  carissima!  »  cried  Drusus,  "would  that  when  t'  ■  orbs 
of  our  lives  go  down  to  their  setting,  they  might  go  do.vn  like 
the  sunlight,  more  beautiful  in  each  act  of  the  very  dying,  as 
they  approach  the  final  goal! " 

"Yes,  surely,"  replied  Cornelia,  touching  her  hands  upon 
his  head;  "but  who  knows  but  that  Catullus  the  poet  is 
wrong  when  he  says  the  sun  of  life  will  never  rise  save  once; 
who  knows  but  that,  if  our  sun  set  in  beauty,  it  will  rise' 
again  in  grandeur  even  more?" 


BOO 


A  FRIEND  OF  CiESAR 


"M^  children,"  sai^  Fabia,  gently,  "the  future  lies  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  gods;  but  out  of  the  present  we  must  shape 
our  own  future." 

"No,  delectissima,"  replied  htr  nephew,  "to  do  that  we  are 
all  too  weak ;  except  it  be  true,  as  Aratus  the  poet  has  said, 
'that  we  men  are  also  the  offspring  of  gods,'  in  which  case 
Heaven  itself  must  stoop  to  give  us  aid." 

But  Cornelia's  eyes  had  wandered  down  into  the  foam,  still 
gleaming  as  snow  in  the  failing  light. 

"  Ah! "  she  said,  "the  ages  are  long;  if  there  be  gods,  their 
days  are  our  lifetimes,  and  we  but  see  a  little  and  know  not 
what  to  think.  But  to  live  a  noble  life  will  always  be  the 
fairest  thing,  whether  c'eath  be  an  unending  sleep  or  the 
threshold  to  Pindar's  Elysium." 

And  what  more  of  ■ .  >  ve  wisdom  might  have  dropped  from 
her  lips  none  may  reiute,  for  her  husband  had  shaken  off  the 
spell,  and  laughed  aloud  in  the  joy  of  his  strong  life  and 
buoyant  hopes.  Then  they  all  three  laughed,  and  thought  no 
more  of  sober  things.  They  went  down  into  the  cabin  just  as 
tne  last  bars  of  light  flickered  out  in  the  west,  and  only  the 
starlight  broke  the  darkness  that  spread  out  over  the  face  of 
the  sea. 


n 

Drusus,  as  he  himself  had  predicted,  never  wrote  a  great 
treatise  on  philosophy,  and  never  drew  up  a  cosmology  that 
set  at  rest  all  the  problems  of  the  universe ;  nor  did  Cornelia 
become  a  Latin  Sappho  or  Corinna,  and  her  wise  lore  never 
went  further  than  to  make  her  friends  afraid  to  affect  a  shammed 
learning  in  her  presence.  But  they  both  did  the  tasks  that  fell 
to  them  better  because  they  had  "  tasted  the  well  of  Parnassus  " 
and  "walked  in  the  grove  with  the  sages."    And  Dm:. 


CALM  AFTER  STORM  qq^ 

down;  then,  after  the  great  ori™!,  ^  °''K»«hs  were  beateB 
Marcus  AnUmiw  andZ,     T  »f  murder,  with  his  Wend 

•»«.  her  and  Il'et  ;h:^r.ST?'' r' ''^' '""* 
■aan  whose  wisdom  and  fij  '         """*  '°  ""  ""ly 

-and  he  joined  hi^sdfrr  '""""""^  ''•'"^  "^  '*"  »'»'» 

a.  g^at  iugusti"":' fou :  ^r^vrr-T'  ^°'^™' 

there  was  no  louRer  a  for,.iT  ,         ^  ""  """*'  ™'" 

Boma™...  gave  ^  V:X::Z  ^°'"'^'  ""^  "'  "'^ 

Roman  Empire     Nof  ,«  i,     !  ^  ^        ^*^"°  °^  *^e  mighty 

H  was  wro^-eo  h:irr"r  !rr"h't''"^ 

implacable  hate.  They  were  hnfl  '  T  '"'""'  ■" 
was  but  seen  in  a  ^ZaT.^  ^'^^  ^°  """^  «>«  ""'k 
»«ch  truth  as  1  "hsatd^' bT'M'  '"'^  "™''  «*  «» 
tie  brightness  arose  Tthe  East  l" '"'"'  °''"^"''  "^^ 
ever  westward,  m>til  theCaS  t  '^  ''  ''"'"''"<'•  ""^ 
gotten,  the  gl„rieT„f  thp  p""'""™  J"Pi*e'  was  nigh  for- 

ti.  sp.;ndoirrLtfjr.  :tr  r  r""-- 

-    the  world  a  better  Deitv    a  ^    •        ?  *^®''®  °^™e 

ci^,    The  greater  ^:l\'Zlt\:rZ'---''y 
fabric  prepared  bv  Jiilni«  n  *  °^  *^6  ^orld- 

-Mer  .piritual  ediiice  when  the  stars  ^:rl  t^Zll''' 


THE  SKS 


.;' 


RECENT  SUCCESSFUL  NOVELS 


RICHARD  CARVEL.    By  Winston  Churchill. 

w_  u  i*'*^I""*  ^*"'*'  "  '*«''8*"'«»8  »n«l  «maxing  the  novel  readers  oi 
both  England  and  America.  ...  It  is  a  tale  that  every  one  should 
read  for  Its  picturesque  chronicle  of  important  events,  as  well  as  for 
a  delightful  story  which  possesses  many  of  the  highest  qualities  of 
romance."  — 5r^  CuUurt. 

TEE    CELEBRITY.       An   Episode.       By    Winston 
Churchill,  Author  of  "  Richard  Carvel." 
The  story  of  a  jaded  celebrity  who  to  escape  adulation  during 

a  vacation  ukes  the  name  of  another  man  with  interesting  and 

ridiculous  consequences. 

VIA  CRUCIS.    By  F.  Marion  Crawford.    Illustrated 
by  Louis  Loeb. 

"  V'»  Crucis  is  ...  a  great  novel;  ...  a  story  of  great  power 
and  force,  bnlhant  and  strenuous,  sweeping  the  reader  along  by  the 
sheer  strength  and  vividness  of  the  narrative."  —  5r«>*^  Eagle. 

YOUNG  APRIL.     By  Egerton  Castle.     With  illus- 
trations  by  A.  B.  Wenzell. 

"  In  his  first  chapter  the  author  strilies  a  note  of  happy  youth, 
of  sunny  experience,  of  sweet  sentiment,  and  to  that  note  he  is  faith- 
ful to  a  degree  extremely  rare  in  contemporary  fiction.  ...  He 
has  painted  youth  in  all  its  chivalry  ana  ideality,  and  has  preserved 
Its  delicate  bloom  to  the  end.  only  deepening  its  magical  effect  by 
the  epilogue  in  which  he  touches  on  its  poignant  place  in  the 
recollections  of  maturity."  —  AVa,  York  Tniunt. 

THE  FOREST  LOVERS.    By  Maurice  Hewlett. 

"  This  work,  for  any  one  of  several  solid  reasons,  must  be  re- 
garded  as  of  very  unusual  interest.  In  the  matter  of  style  alone,  it 
IS  an  achievement,  an  extraordinary  achievement ;  ...  in  the  matter 
of  interpreting  nature  there  are  passages  in  this  book  that  I  have 
never  seen  surpassed  in  prose  fiction."  —  James  Lane  Allen. 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66  PUTH  AVBNUE,  HEW  YORK 


Novels  and  Talcs  by  James  Lane  Allen 


THE  CHOIR  INVISIBLE 

Cloth.      i2ino.     9i'50.     New  edition  with  illustrations   by  Orson 
Lowell.    $3.50 

"  One  reads  the  story  for  the  story's  sake  and  then  rereads 
the  book  out  of  pure  delight  in  its  beauty.  .  .  .  Mr.  Allen  stands 
to-day  in  the  front  rank  of  American  novelists.  'The  Choir 
Invisible '  will  solidify  a  reputation  already  established  and  bring 
into  clear  light  his  rare  gifts  as  an  artist.  For  this  latest  story  is 
as  genuine  a  work  of  art  as  has  come  from  an  American  hand." — 
Hamilton  W.  Mabie  in  The  Outlook. 

"The  humor  and  grace  ...  we  have  had  in  our  fiction; 
the  purity  of  tone  also.  .  .  .  But  the  imaginative  beauty  which 
lies  deep  at  the  root  of  things,  .  .  .  this  is  a  rarer  grace,  a  more 
enduring  quality,  of  fine  literature.  .  .  .  This  beauty  has  lain  in 
other  books  by  Mr.  Allen,  but  in  none,  we  think,  has  it  been 
under  such  high  command  as  in  this."  —  The  Atlantic  Monthly. 

"  Highly  praised  and  with  reason.  It  is  written  with  singular 
delicacy  and  has  an  Old  World  fragrance  which  seems  to  come 
from  the  classics  we  keep  in  lavender." 

—  The  Daily  Chronicle,  London. 

"  '  e  has  given  us  something  strong,  deep,  reverential,  that 
will  teach  us  how  to  live."  —  The  Bookman. 

SUMMER  IN  ARCADY.    A  Tak  of  Natute 

Cloth.     i2mo.    $i.as 

"  The  close  communion  and  sympathy  with  Nature,  and  the 
noble  interpretation  of  her  wayward  moods  and  changing  phases, 
manifested  in  'A  Kentucky  Cardinal'  and  'Aftermath,'  find  nobler, 
sweeter,  ampler  expression  in  the  luminous,  sunlit,  sun-fiushed 
pages  of  his  new  story."  —  77ie  Bookman. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

60  FIFTH  AVSNUB,  HSW  TOSK 


.. 


Novels  and  Tales  by  James  Une  Allen 


THE  BLUE  GRASS  REGION  OF  KENTUCKY 

lUustrated.    $1.50  'v*-!^  1  UVJWX 

had  ^.T'^fs'i%x';c%? '^.vJi'V''^  T""''  ^' 

^^T^^^  VIOUN  AND  OTHER  KENTUCKV 
TALES  AND  ROMANCES  ^J^NIUCKV 

Illustrated.     $1.50 

l,nmp"5*l^^^u"t' u^°  t  ^^^"^ *°^  fragrant  worfd  in  that  Kentucky 
home  of  his  which  he  has  shared  with  us  so  genially  and  deS^ 

than  he  °' morX  ?  °"^  '^^  ™^^^  '"-^  ^^  a  n^dve      gtn 
for^hi  kT:  ^^"*y  *""*  ™°'^  attractiveness.     He  has  done 

Fn^.J\^^^  T^^'y  ''^^'  M's«  ^"kins  has  done  for  New 

A  KENTUCKY  CARDINAL 

Illustrated.     $1.00 

"A  narrative  told  with  naive  simplicity  in  the  first  oerson  of 

Ll  mT!!  "'^,°  ^'^.^r''''^  to  his  fruits  and  flowers Td  birds 
came  to  fall  m  love  with  a  fair  neighbor  who  treated  him  at  firs? 
vnth  whimsical  raillery  and  coquetry,  and  who  finally  purhU  love 
to  the  supreme  test"  —  J\rew  York  Tribune. 

AFTERMATa    A  Sequel  to -A  Kentucky  CardinaL" 

Illustrated.    $1.00 

SDirit"Id%r/niH  ?''"P"''*y  °^  *"u**^^  ^P*«°^«^'  t''^  gentleness  of 
spint,  and  the  old-time  courtesy,  the  poetry  of  it  all.  with  a  eleam 
of  humor  on  almost  every  page." — Z//^.  ^ 


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0«  PIPTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


